


Complex

by bandumpster



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: 1970s, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bri is Tired, Coming Out, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, In a way, Moving In Together, Rog is the center of the universe, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, actually the au is like just guys in the 70's living, angst fluff and rock’n’roll, sorry for all the tags babes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-10-16 03:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 39,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17541695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bandumpster/pseuds/bandumpster
Summary: Brian and his girlfriend Chrissie have been dealing with the worst type of neighbour for a few months now. The type that hammers on Christmas, leaves garbage bags in the stairwell and never, ever holds the front door. He also throws a lot of parties, and one night Brian goes and rings the bell to tell them to keep it down. Unfortunately when the party host comes to the door he is drunk, shirtless and stunning. From that moment on, destiny seems determined to shove them into each other's lives.





	1. ”Can You Keep It Down A Little?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! It's been quite a while since I posted anything here! But I've been feeling inspired, and now there's a new bandom in town...or old, really. So that's where I'll be! Obviously I was greatly inspired by the wonderful movie, and so is this fic right here, but I absolutely don't own the characters themselves! I'm just a jolly little fiction writer!
> 
> I'm not sure what will happen to it, hopefully some of you like it (do leave a little kudos or comment if you do so I know and I'll continue!:-)), but I just had this thing in my brain so. 
> 
> British English is not really something I'm super familiar with, and also I actually don't know that much about how what life was like in the 70's or for university students so like. Teach me, dads. I do research as much as I can though!
> 
> Hope you like it anyway! Hope I didn't scare you off!

“Who would, in their right mind, throw a party on a Sunday night?” Brian whispered, staring at the ceiling where little clouds of dust dropped occasionally with the beat of heavy, pouncing footsteps.  
“Just try and sleep, love,” Chrissie whispered back, reaching out a hand and brushing his arm, though she was quite clearly half-asleep. Her face was completely relaxed, and her eyes almost looked like they were never going to open again. That’s an awful thing to think, Brian thought to himself, but it was true.  
“Unemployed, drop-out losers, I think. And it's the second night in a row, as well,” Brian muttered even quieter than before, trying to follow his girlfriend’s advice as he closed his eyes. But it seemed whoever was in charge of the music had heard his insult, somehow, because the bass vibrating in the walls became even louder. He heard the whoops and singing of the people, and worst of all: the thumping of dancing. Not that he hated parties, but on a Sunday night? What was the point in that? 

A couple of minutes passed, and Brian began wondering if he should just give up on sleeping, and maybe try and polish up his latest essay instead. He’d finished it a couple of days ago, but it could always become better. It was for class tomorrow - or maybe it was already Monday - so why not? If he wasn’t going to sleep, anyway. Brian threw off his cheap duvet and sat on the side of the bed for a second. Chrissie breathed heavily, already deep in slumber again. Brian wondered silently how she managed as he stood up and felt around for something soft to wear. 

His desk was a mess. He wasn’t usually particularly unorganized, but university was getting to him a little bit. Papers and books were fine, but the pencil shavings and messy notes were annoying. Not nearly as annoying as the ceiling sounding and looking like it was about to fall in. Not that they weren’t used to it. Obviously, since Chrissie had no trouble sleeping. And it wasn’t always a problem for Brian either, so maybe he was mostly nervous about turning this essay in. It was the end of the semester, and this essay on time and evolution was the one thing his life had been about for the last month. Another reason to try and make it better, then maybe he’d get some rest. 

Though the typewriter’s clickety-clacking was definitely relaxing in a way, Brian could barely rewrite a single paragraph before the most jump-friendly song in the world must have come on. In unison, what sounded like 50 pairs of feet(how could anyone fit this many people in an apartment?) began thumping. Brian sighed, feeling defeated, and saw Chrissie sit up in the bed in his peripheral vision.  
“Can you go tell them to keep it down, Bri?” she breathed, her eyes blinking furiously against the desk lamps direct light. Brian hummed, thinking about it for a second. He absolutely did not want to. He did actually know who the neighbour was, sort of. He was kind of guy to hammer stuff on the walls on Christmas, leave garbage bags out in the stairwell and not hold the front door even for a second. “Bri?”  
“Huh? Oh yeah, of course, love. I’ll go,” he had answered before properly coming up with an argument so now he’d have to. 

The stairwell was pitch-black. The landlord saw it as a good thing as people wouldn’t stomp around at night so much. Not that it worked, apparently, Brian thought bitterly. The darkness stank of hard liquor and probably piss and maybe a little vomit. It was already two in the morning, Brian had checked. Could there really be that many people there, still? What was worse, many buzzed people or a few black-out drunks? Coming up to the floor above and standing in front of the apartment’s door, Brian realized it was probably a combination of the two: many black-out drunks. Even just ringing the bell felt awkward. He was 23 years old, he could have been at this party, but now he was just an old git downstairs beating a broom in the ceiling yelling profanities at the youth. The thought actually made him smile, maybe with amusement, maybe with pity for himself. He read the name sign, Taylor, R. Then he rang again. 

The door eventually opened, and his prediction was true, the apartment was filled to the brim with lots of hammered university-aged people. A slightly gangly, wide-eyed twenty-something-or-possibly-younger man was standing in the door. His hair was not far off from Brians, long and wavy and brown. Brian became shy suddenly, still feeling awkward about telling people his own age to party less hard.  
“Hi, there.” He cleared his throat.  
“Hello! Are you Brian?” the man, or boy rather, answered. Brian was so baffled with the boy knowing his name that he silenced for a moment, raising his eyebrows. The boy seemed to realize a few seconds later - a drunken delay - as well that it wasn’t a smart thing to say. “Um- I’ll get the host,” he mumbled and disappeared. Brian felt a bit dumb for not even having said a word about why he came here. But supposedly it made more sense to say it to the host. He waited for quite a long time, actually. But then he appeared, and at first Brian recognized him as just the guy he’d seen in passing in the stairs, blond hair and big eyes. Then he quickly picked up on the signs of being shitfaced. Blushing, messy hair, eyes half-closed, shirtless and quite sweaty. Awkward, Brian thought and swallowed, but realized his neighbour probably didn’t care whatsoever. He decided to skip the introduction and get right to it.  
“Can you keep it down a little? It’s Sunday night,” he asked, trying not to sound polite but failing. He tried to keep eye contact with the guy, but it wasn’t easy. Not only was he looking all around Brian’s body, but he was also still shirtless and quite sweaty which made Brian feel a bit queasy.  
“Sorry, what?” Taylor, R. responded with a big grin on his face. He’d probably heard him but made a joke, Brian figured.  
“Keep it down,” he repeated, more like he was talking to a child.  
“No I mean - it’s Monday! Not Sunday!” the guy laughed, a little too hysterically for such a dry joke.  
“I know, that’s kind of my point,” Brian mumbled, tearing his eyes from the other’s and landing them on his feet. 

He realized he didn’t want to be there anymore, not feeling like arguing or being made a fool of by some drunk at that moment.  
“Whatever, man. My girlfriend’s trying to sleep, you know. But if you want to be an arse, whatever.” Brian shrugged, not really meaning to sound so bitter.  
“Woah, woah, you have a girlfriend?” his neighbour asked with sudden interest, lightning a cigarette from nowhere and leaning against the doorframe.  
“So?” Brian countered, already taking a few steps back. There was a moment of silence, and Brian imagined cogwheels turning slowly in his neighbour’s very sloshed brain.  
“Is that her?” he pointed a bit lazily behind Brian, who turned around. Chrissie was coming slowly up the stairs, her eyes narrow and her steps wobbly from just having woken up.  
“What’s taking so long?” she said, seeming to wake to life upon seeing the drunk Taylor, R.  
“Hello there, neighbour!” the party host hollered happily.  
“Shut up, will you?” Brian hissed, and the host looked very surprised, but not offended.  
“Bri, come on. If he won’t turn it down, let’s just go back to bed,” Chrissie sighed very tiredly. She had a point, Brian wasn’t sure why he had been standing here for so long.  
“No, no, no, I can turn it down. Hold on,” the neighbour said instantly and disappeared into the crowd behind him.  
“Alright, let’s go, Brian,” Chrissie asked softly, obviously not believing that the party host was serious.  
“Hold on, I just want to make sure,” Brian answered slowly.  
“Leave it, he’s just some drunk arse,” Chrissie said with a finality and turned back around, going down the stairs again. Brian felt that he had somehow upset her, but he wasn’t sure how, so he decided to wait a moment longer. 

And surely, a moment later, Taylor, R. was back in the doorway, and the music had in fact been turned down enough to notice. People seemed unhappy about it, though.  
“There you go, señor,” the neighbour sighed with a soft smile, looking like he wanted a medal.  
“Thank you,” Brian answered shortly and began taking a few steps back to walk away again.  
“I’m Roger, by the way,” the man behind him said suddenly. Brian glanced back to see him reaching out a hand. Brian leaned over a little to grab it and responded:  
“Nice to meet you, I honestly don’t give a shit, but thank you for lowering the volume.”  
Roger Taylor responded with a wide, shit-eating grin and Brian sighed heavily. He had to pull his hand back with force before finally going back down to his own apartment.  
“See you another time, then!” Roger called, but Brian didn’t answer. “I’ll make sure to keep the volume really high next weekend, and you’ll have no choice but to come and tell me off again!” The echo of his voice was cut off by the door to Brian and Chrissie’s apartment being shut. 

The apartment was quiet now. Brian realized he hadn’t introduced himself back when Roger shook his hand, but that reminded him about that first kid who had known his name already. Very strange, he thought. He wasn’t very well-known, and especially not with people he didn’t know who they were.

Chrissie was already asleep again, her face against the wall and duvet pulled up to her head. Brian sighed, thinking maybe he should apologize. For something. But instead he just gathered together the papers on the desk from earlier and joined her in the bed. 

 

The next morning, everything was completely quiet again, and Brian opened his eyes very slowly and softly. He didn’t feel particularly well-rested or even like he’d slept at all, but turning over he found that Chrissie was wide awake.  
“Good morning,” he mumbled. “Sorry about yesterday,” he said, instantly realizing she was biting the inside of her cheek, which she did when she was annoyed. But then she relaxed and looked down at him, quietly placing a kiss in his hair.  
“It’s fine,” she said softly. What was fine anyway, exactly? Brian wondered. In their whole relationship the communication had been a little strange, but Brian never cared to ask questions. He just apologized when he felt he needed to. He figured Chrissie wanted more attention from him than he could muster, even though she definitely deserved it, and that made her feel a bit frozen out sometimes. But that was just a difference between them, he wasn’t very focused all the time and she was very caring. 

He stood up to go make breakfast, saw that the time was nine in the morning, that’s nice time to wake up on a Monday morning, oh it’s Monday - I have the essay due Monday. Today is Monday. The essay was supposed to be in half an hour a ago. 

Brian barely had jeans on before he’d grabbed the heap of papers and gone outside. The stairwell still stank, but he could barely care about that, he just rushed out in the rain. But he had papers! They would be destroyed by the time he got even halfway to the university in the downpour. He went indoors again to fetch an umbrella or a bag or anything, but met eyes very suddenly up the staircase. It was Roger, for once carrying a bag of empty bottles down the stairs. He looked a bit roughed up, still bloodshot eyes and messy hair. No shower yet. Brian realized they were still just staring at each other, both standing very still, when Roger opened his mouth to speak.  
“Sorry, I don’t have time,” Brian rushed, going ahead to pass by him.  
“Wait! I, uh- I have an umbrella. If that’s what you need,” Roger hurried, and indeed he did reach out a dark red umbrella toward Brian. Their eyes met again, a bit of doubt in both of them probably. Roger’s voice wasn’t kind. It was raspy and quite low. His tone didn’t sound like he could ever say anything kind or polite. So it was a bit strange to hear him try to.  
“Yes, thank you,” Brian managed to press out after a moment. He took it, making sure their hands wouldn’t brush, and walked right outside before even opening it. Just hurry, he thought, hurry, hurry, hurry away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the end of chapter one! 
> 
> It was pretty short, I feel like. If I do continue this, I think I'll keep the chapters shorter than I usually do so I can proofread properly, but I know myself so that probably won't happen. 
> 
> Hope you liked this little chapter! Tell me what you think, if you like! Otherwise, thanks for reading! :-D


	2. ”Like Gatsby.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian's trying not to think too much about his encounter with his neighbour, though it proves difficult. He tries to find some support in a close friend across the hall, at the same time as leaving his girlfriend alone. Slowly, it becomes clearer and clearer that something is going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> This chapter is a bit longer(I knew I'd succumb) so I hope it doesn't feel stretched-out.
> 
> Happy reading! And thank you for the kind comments, kudos and bookmarks I got as I was sleeping! :-D

The new speakers were madly good. Sure, it was a month’s worth of money, but that’s showbiz’ baby. Roger looked around, trying to recognize his friends from his enemies and the rest, who were strangers. His apartment was often cramped, but this was something else, because he was also a lot drunker than usually.  
“There are a lot of people here, man!” came a sudden voice. Roger turned around and saw his new friend; John. He couldn’t remember his last name, so maybe it was as bland as his first.  
“I know that,” he answered, hissing with laughter.  
“I’m sorry but your neighbours must hate you,” John added, sounding far too formal and polite for this time of day. Or night, rather.  
“They do! Oh, Brian who lives downstairs, that guy hates my guts! He’s some fancy science student and he’s our age, you know, but he’s like an old man, man. Listen, if I can get-” Roger interrupted his own blabbering to not fall over, which he was about to do. “If I can- I bet you ten pounds I can make him come up here and tell me to shut the hell up!”  
“I’m sure you can! Is that the guitar guy?” John continued, following Roger as he tumbled through the crowd to get to the speakers. “I’d like to meet him, actually.”  
“You answer the door, then.”

...

The essay papers were only almost ruined when Brian eventually came to his university’s big gates. Not that it was far, it was walking distance from his apartment. A million thoughts raced through his mind; this essay was so important, would his professor fail him for this? What if parts of it were completely destroyed and he’d have to redo it, or maybe not get to and fail the course? All his thoughts went the worst possible way, with him failing the course and ending up miserable, alone and broke. And that umbrella! When was he going to return it? Brian figured he could just leave it outside Roger’s door. That’d be fine. That whole interaction was spinning in his mind, too. Brian didn’t know what to make of it, so he desperately tried to get it out of his brain. He had been trying to all the way there, to his Evolution classroom. Fortunately, his professor was still in there.  
“I’m very sorry, professor. Please don’t fail me.” His teacher gave him a stern, but amused, look.  
“I won’t, Mr. May. You look like you tried very hard,” he mused. Brian laughed nervously.  
“I did.”  
“You didn’t stay up last night to do the whole thing, right? You know, starting in time is the best way to ensure-”  
“No! I didn’t, or well I-” Brian took a breath as his professor smiled and shook his head as a way to tell Brian to relax. “I had a pretty long night, not going to lie, but I’ve been working on this thing for weeks.”  
“I believe you, Brian. If you don’t have any classes today, I’d advise you to go home and rest. You look like you might need it,” his professor finished and Brian thanked him profusely before leaving the otherwise empty classroom in a rush. 

On his way out the door, however, he knocked right into another person. It felt like a bit of a wake-up call, he seriously needed to slow down a little bit.  
“I’m very sorry,” he said quickly, grabbing the guy’s arm to help him steady the books he was carrying. Luckily he hadn’t dropped any. They had a moment of silence where Brian realized he recognized that guy. It was the guy who’d answered the door last night! His eyes were wide and he looked a bit spooked. Brian couldn’t muster a word before he was on his way, but the guy quickly called:  
“Sorry, thank you!” and ran off. Strange! He must be a student here, though Brian had never seen him before. Not that it was particularly strange, there were many students here.

Brian didn’t have classes until noon on Mondays, except for the one he’d missed that morning. This was a good thing, because he had to see a friend. 

It was still raining when he walked outside, though the wind had gone down a bit and the rainfall had gone from a downpour to a drizzle. It was calming, and the umbrella didn’t go around in the wind so much either. Brian took a deep breath, standing still on the street for a moment. Something felt wrong, and it had since last night. Like he was heavier, or maybe lighter. Things were blurrier and clearer at the same time. Maybe he was getting sick. Either way, going home felt good until he came to the house, spotting a flash of light hair coming the same way. It was Roger. Brian figured this was a good time to return the umbrella, and then they would just never have to talk again. Roger seemed to notice him as well, shooting him a look as he opened the door. Brian forced a little smile, consciously hurrying his steps a little so the other wouldn’t have to hold the door for too long. Roger didn’t hold the door at all. He slipped inside and disappeared. Brian stopped in his tracks and couldn’t silence a grunt of disappointment. What was that guy’s deal, really? He decided to ignore it and went inside. Why did it bother him, anyway? The world was full as dickheads. Maybe not many dickheads who were willing to lend him a umbrella, though. 

“You’re still home?” Brian called as he noticed Chrissie’s jacket and shoes were still in their normal place in the hallway.  
“I work afternoon shifts on Mondays now, Bri,” she answered from the kitchen, then appearing in the hallway to greet him with a kiss.  
“Right,” he mumbled, remembering she’d told him that as she kept her lips on his longer than he thought she would. Her nimble fingers fiddled at his jacket.  
“So I thought we could...make it a good morning,” she beamed, though she was clearly trying to look suave. Brian’s stomach got a bit tingly and he smiled.  
“Yes, yeah. Let me just eat something.” He pulled away from her and walked past her into the kitchen, her hand lingering in his as he went.  
“Uh, yeah! Of course,” she answered with a bit of surprise, understandably. 

Brian didn’t turn her down often, he thought.  
“What did you professor say? You just kind of...disappeared from here, but I remembered the essay so I get it.” Brian thought about it heavily, as if he couldn’t remember suddenly, as he popped some untoasted toast with just ham in his mouth.  
“He understood,” he answered. “I think it’ll be fine.”  
“Oh, good. That’s good.” Chrissie smiled warmly, though she seemed a bit impatient, picking at a button of her blouse. Actually it wasn’t a blouse, but Brian’s shirt. He realized she wanted him notice.  
“That suits you,” he noted. She smiled again. She wanted him to do something. Probably stop eating and just take her shirt off, he figured. But it took to long for him to realize, so she went up to him and softly grabbed the last piece of bread from his hand and put it back on the counter, her eyes sparkling. She put her fingers through his hair and kissed him again, and Brian did manage to put his hand on her waist before that weird tingly feeling came back from earlier. It wasn’t a horny feeling, it wasn’t even a very excited feeling. More nervous, and guilty.  
“Uh, I promised I’d meet Fred in a bit,” he suddenly said, leaning his head away from her. She looked questioning. Her eyes still had that let’s-have-sex spark and her mouth was a bit red. He needed to shave, he thought.  
“When?”  
“Now.” Brian cleared his throat and detangled himself from her warm hands.  
“No, I mean when did you decide that with him?” she asked more seriously.  
“Oh, um, just on the way out this morning. We met in the stairs,” he explained. Lying, obviously. “I borrowed his umbrella, it’s in the hallway.” Good, maybe that made it seem more reliable. He walked back to the front door, actually still wearing shoes.  
“You’re acting weird, Brian. What’s going on?” Chrissie sounded a bit hurt, but mostly empathetic. She was good at caring and engaging in his life. He wasn’t equally good at it with her.  
“Am I?” he answered a bit absentmindedly.  
“You have been for the past few months, actually. But now it’s like...like you see right through me, you know. You’re not even looking me in the eye right now.” She was right, he wasn’t. But when she said it he did so that was always something.  
“I’m sorry, Chrissie. I think I’m just a bit stressed.”

Without another word he was out the door. Shutting it behind him and leaning against it, the guilt finally caught up with him.  
“Why did I do that?” he asked himself quietly. In the moment, he hadn’t had time to think, his heart had just been beating so loudly in his chest and his mind was telling him to leave. But why, exactly? Sometimes he and Chrissie weren’t on the same page about having sex, but he’d never leave her like that. But now he’d done it, and he could feel her confusion within himself. Or some kind of confusion, at least. 

Brian and Freddie lived in the same apartment complex, and Freddie didn’t like it when people rang the doorbell, but he wasn’t the type of person you could barge in on either. Brian had caught him in some interesting situations in the past, like birthday parties for his cats with party hats and cake and the whole thing. Naked, many times. And Freddie even had a roommate, Brian wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Mary was his soulmate in a way though, they were more like siblings than just roommates, Fred said. Brian was sure he said that because he didn’t want anyone to know he was in love with her, though. After a couple of knocks on the door it flew open.  
“Brian! Hello, dear!” Freddie’s smile was comforting with a hint of chaotic.  
“Dear? Is that what I am now?” Brian joked as he walked inside. Freddie had picked up the habit not long ago; calling people dear and darling. It was endearing, in a way.  
“You always have been,” Freddie defended. Brian kicked off his shoes as one of the cats - Brian couldn’t remember it’s name - stroked against his leg. “What’s on your mind, darling?”

Brian and Freddie had been friends since the beginning of university. Freddie was a year older than him, and had kind of taken him under his wing in a way. Not that Brian thought he needed it, having a girlfriend and a place to live and really, no worries at all. But he was happy about it anyway. Freddie lived a very rich and lively life with a lot of partying and drama, but he was also very caring and honest. They made a strange pair, Mary would often say. 

“I’m not totally sure. Thank you,” he answered as he was handed a cup of tea. The scent of English Breakfast was mixed with something stronger. “Is there vodka in this?”  
“Just mine, dear. Why, would you like some?” Freddie answered casually and sat down on the couch. Brian smiled unbelievingly.  
“It’s Monday morning,” he sighed.  
“I’m sure it’s Friday night somewhere.”  
“That’s not at all how it works, Fred.” Brian sat down on the other side of the couch, lifting his legs up and crossed them like someone with much shorter legs would. He usually made sure to sit quite properly, he supposed, but now he just couldn’t be bothered. Freddie copied him.  
“Anyway,” Fred continued. “Talk to me.”  
Brian sighed. “There was a party upstairs last night, right?” he began.  
“Yes, I was there. No wait, that was the party on Saturday, go on.”  
“And I guess I got a bit annoyed, it sounded like the ceiling would fall in, and Chrissie who usually sleeps through it told me to go tell them to keep it down,” Brian continued. “And I already knew the guy who lives there is kind of a dick, his name is Roger. Surely you’ve seen him. Blond hair, kind of a baby-face. Eventually he did turn it down, but he was kind of dragging the whole thing out...anyway- wait, did you say you were there?” Brian suddenly realized, furrowing his eyebrows.  
“No, I was-” Freddie started, but Brian wanted to keep going.  
“Oh, okay. Well, since last night Chrissie’s been acting a little bit weird. She got a bit moody with me even though she’s the one who told me to go. And this morning it was like it was all gone, and she wanted to shag but I just kind of...left. I don’t know why. So now I’m here.” Brian spoke like he was thinking out loud, now wanting Freddie to say something.  
“Darling, I’m having a hard time understanding what the problem is. Well, except that your girlfriend is alone in your apartment right now when you owe her a shag,” Freddie said quite seriously. Brian laughed with a bit of sadness to it. “Which explains why she would be ‘moody’ by the way.”  
“I guess,” Brian answered, burning his tongue on the tea.  
“Then, you also talked about that Roger for about thirty seconds. Do you know him at all?” Freddie asked, copying Brian and apparently also burning his tongue, judging by the face he made.  
“No, that’s not the point, Fred,” Brian tried.  
“Isn’t it?” Freddie countered. He looked very deep in thought and a little bit sneaky, but Brian didn’t bother to wonder what was going on in his head. He knew Freddie well enough to know it wouldn’t necessarily make sense, whatever he was thinking about. Brian just let him think, and after a moment he seemed to come to a conclusion. Brian got a bad feeling about it. “Actually, I have met that guy, now that I think about it,” he said. “Roger. You know me, I can’t stay away from a good party-” Freddie was obviously trying to make sure Brian understood what he was talking about, which was unusually thoughtful of him. “He’s actually not a dick.”  
“Are you sure?” Brian huffed, but he was smiling. “When was this?”  
“Oh, just in passing, darling. And of course on Saturday. I heard the music and I just couldn’t help it, I’m like an animal with that stuff, so I obviously had to pay him a visit, see what it was about and you know…” Freddie was now sipping his tea quite mischievously. Brian sighed.  
“What are you on about?”  
Freddie thought for a moment. “Nothing, darling. Nevermind. We just talked about it, and in fact… oh, I shouldn’t say!” Freddie exclaimed dramatically.  
“Then don’t,” Brian laughed.  
“But it’s so amusing! Oh, we were both quite drunk, and I guess you came up in conversation,” Freddie said, trying to sound casual but very clearly holding in a grin.  
“Me?”  
“Just for a moment. I guess Rog said something about you telling him to be a bit quieter next time at some point, which by the way is so dull of you, and he somehow got the idea to be even louder just so you would come up and tell him off, but you didn’t. I guess he tried again the next night. Like Gatsby,” Freddie ended the sentence with a laugh, and Brian couldn’t help but smile hopelessly at his friend, also with a lot of doubt and confusion.  
“Are you being serious or are you making me look like an idiot?” he asked genuinely.  
“Somewhere in between,” Freddie mused. Brian furrowed his brows at him.  
“You said he wasn’t as much of a dick as I thought. I think he’s more of one than I thought. Who would do that?” Brian shook his head, not feeling like talking about his arsehole neighbour anymore.  
“Desperate fools, dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of chapter two!
> 
> I think I'm making it a bit confusing, but there is an answer, I just don't want to explain everything too fast! And yeah, the guy who answered the door was John Deacon if that wasn't completely clear! 
> 
> McThank You for reading! I'm not sure how to move from here tbh though I know where I'm headed, but feel free to analyze and give me ideas! :-D


	3. “And Have A Cup Of Tea With Him Too, While You’re At It!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian has a little fight with Chrissie. He then comes eye to eye with the man of the hour, and the change of direction begins to take place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! 
> 
> I'm updating quite frequently, aren't I! I guess it's not very smart, I should save chapters and deal em out further between. But I'm just so excited to write again! Once again, thanks for all the lovely comments<3
> 
> There's a lot of Chrissie in this chapter, and that might make it seem boring, but remember Brian doesn't know what we know yet(that he's got the hots for men). Also I really don't think Chrissie is a bad person in this story, I'd be pretty confused if I were her tbh.

Usually a Friday night was something to look forward to. More time to make dinner, go out with some friends and have a drink, watch a movie. But this time, there was a looming, dark feeling about it. Brian sighed as he walked home from class. The sun was setting somewhere beyond the thick duvet of clouds. His bag was heavy with books, but considering the words echoing in his head, he wouldn’t get much done. ‘ _I’ll make sure to keep the volume really high next weekend, and you’ll have no choice but to come and tell me off again!’._ Like a threat, of some kind. Though not very threatening, really.

Coming home to his apartment in general had become a bit of a roulette as well. Chrissie had definitely had something on her mind the last week. She was usually very stable, and most of the time happy, too. But now it was up and down. Sometimes she was all over him, sometimes she wouldn’t say a word. Brian didn’t know what to make of it, and decided on his way home from his last class of the day that maybe he should bring it up and talk about it with her. Depending on what mood she was in. The thought made Brian frown a little; if he kept dodging bullets and making excuses he’d never get to the end of anything. So he would talk to her. 

Chrissie was sitting on the couch when he came home, reading a book. Upon further notice though, Brian saw her eyes weren’t moving at all.  
“Hi,” he greeted a bit unsurely.  
“Something strange happened earlier,” Chrissie answered with a clear voice. Brian took off his shoes and sighed very quietly, coming to sit beside her. She gave him a look as to not do that, but he did anyway.  
“What?” he asked, trying to sound concerned, though it seemed whatever it was, it was about him.  
“I went to return the umbrella to Freddie,” she began and Brian shivered a little. It had just been a white lie, but he had felt extremely guilty about it for some reason. “He wasn’t home, but Mary was. We sat and talked for a while. You have been there plenty this week, and she mentioned how you’d seemed pretty tired, and worried about something. On edge, you know? And I said ‘Yeah, he’s been acting very strangely, staying at the library a lot and he’s distant. Doesn’t touch me, barely talks to me’,” Chrissie continued. Brian sighed, getting a feeling he knew where this was going, and he wanted to interrupt her and tell her she was acting crazy; he would never cheat on her. “And then when Freddie did come home, he said the umbrella wasn’t his either.”  
“Chris, I know what you’re aiming at but you’re wrong. I’m just-” Brian tried, but she talked over him.  
“I know, I know, you’re stressed and busy and all that. But I just want to know, Brian, if this umbrella belongs to some other girl? Because if it does, we can just leave it at that, okay?” Chrissie was clearly trying to stay calm and not seem upset. Brian couldn’t help but smile.  
“It’s not, I promise you it isn’t,” he said calmly. She seemed to believe him and smiled with relief.  
“Really?”  
“Really. I’m so sorry I lied about that, it was really stupid. And unnecessary,” he mumbled, brushing his hand through her hair. She leaned over and gave him a kiss. 

Kissing her finally felt right again. He felt lighter, now knowing what had been troubling her and getting to apologize. It must be over now, he thought. That strange feeling he’d been having, the butterflies and guilt, it was about this stupid little lie, and now it was over. 

“I do want to know though, whose is it?” Chrissie interrupted their kiss, looking at him with a bit of concern, but mostly mischievousness.  
“Oh, it’s uh- it’s a funny story, actually.” Brian cleared his throat, for some reason unsure where to begin. “As I was heading to hand in the essay, I hadn’t realized it was raining so I had to run back inside and-” Brian wasn’t sure why he was dragging this out, and Chrissie wasn’t either, giving him a very uncertain look. “I met Roger in the stairwell. You know, the neighbour who-”  
“I know who he is,” Chrissie sighed, leaning back on the couch and looking at her hands. Brian pushed to continue.  
“Yeah. And he asked if I needed an umbrella. So that’s how I got it,” he finished with a light tone, wanting to make the situation sound better than how Chrissie was taking it, considering her sighs.  
“That was nice of him, I guess,” she answered uncomfortably and shifted in her seat. “Why did you lie about that?”  
“Hm?” Brian had already moved on from it, kind of.  
“Brian. Why did you say it was Freddie’s if it wasn’t? Did you really want to leave so badly you just lied about it so I’d shut up?” Chrissie said with a bit of finality. 

Chrissie was usually not hard in her words at all. So it was a little surprising to hear her say that. 

“No! I mean- no. Why would I do that?” Brian breathed and she stood up.  
“You tell me! It’s not like I’d be angry you borrowed a bloody umbrella, even though Roger’s an arse,” Chrissie answered, Brian also standing up. He couldn’t really fathom her anger, or why is was even there.  
“How do you know he’s an arse, really?” Now Brian was just blurting things out, because Roger was clearly an arse. Chrissie sighed loudly. There was a moment of silence where they both wondered why they were upset. Or at least Brian wondered that, he obviously couldn’t read Chrissie’s thoughts. Not even a little. Or well, maybe a little, but he’d never admit she was onto something. Brian felt a blush coming on, out of nowhere. He felt as though he was in elementary school and someone had claimed he had a crush when he didn’t, and the blush had just made his denial less believable.  
“Just go return it, will you?” Chrissie eventually snapped at him.  
“With pleasure,” Brian answered, not intending to sound sarcastic, but sort of doing it anyway.  
“And have a cup of tea with him too, while you’re at it!” 

The dark red umbrella was still standing where it had been when he came home on Monday, leaning against the corner beside the front door. Brian looked at it angrily for a long second before snatching it into his grip and heading out into the stairwell, still careful not to slam the door. He took triple steps up the stairs and was outside Roger Taylor’s door in a heartbeat, ready to speak to him one last time and then never again. He’d only waited a moment after his knock before the door opened.  
“Hello- oh,” Roger greeted him first with a smile, and then a surprised frown. He was clearly expecting someone else, Brian thought. Suddenly that bitterness went away, and the way he had planned to say ‘Here’s your umbrella, never talk to me again, please,' didn’t come out at all. “What do you want?” Roger looked like he wasn’t sure how to react; trying to sound uninviting but still not wanting to be rude for no reason.  
“Um- this.” Brian reached out his hand, waited a moment and realized it was not the hand he was holding the umbrella with and changed it quickly. Roger looked very skeptical. Brian felt like an idiot.  
“Thanks. I had forgotten about it,” Roger admitted, taking it from his hand slowly. Brian remembered how he had politely made sure their hands wouldn’t touch when he got the umbrella from Roger initially. Roger didn’t have the same courtesy and their fingers brushed for a moment. Brian swallowed. There was too much quiet between their exchanges and Roger began to turn away.  
“Wait-” Brian interrupted, and Roger turned back to him, big eyes curious, but in an unimpressed way. “Are you- going to have another party tonight?” Why would he ask that? Roger grinned at him.  
“Yeah, you here to scold me in advance? Don’t worry, grandpa, I don’t wanna get on your bad side,” Roger joked, punching Brian softly in the arm. Brian tried to frown, but it made him smile anyway. This guy was like a kid stuck in an adult body.  
“Yeah, don’t,” Brian joked back, and Roger actually laughed a little.  
“You wouldn’t wanna come, by chance, then?” he asked very suddenly, almost looking surprised at himself. “The more the merrier, I mean.” He looked nervous, and maybe like he was regretting it, but still eager to get an answer. Brian felt a bit awkward but also kind of flattered.  
“I don’t know,” he answered before he’d waited to long and blurted out something dumb, like ‘yes’. “I can think about it, sure.” Roger smiled for a split second, but then cleared his throat.  
“Cool, cool. I’ll see you. Maybe,” he pressed out. It was quiet for a moment, and neither of them said goodbye.

Footsteps came up from behind him, and Brian turned his head quickly to spot no other than the guy who had opened the door on Sunday night, and the one he’d run into the next day. Brian had no idea what to say, except:  
“It’s you again.” That was a rude thing to say, Brian thought.  
“Oh- hi,” the guy answered. He was carrying two bags that had a lot of glass bottles in them. A lot of glass bottles.  
“You know each other?” Roger’s voice was insecure when he interrupted their awkward encounter.  
“No,” they both answered at the same time.  
“Well, come in then, John. See you around, Brian,” Roger closed the conversation as quickly as it had started. Brian and John just looked at each other very strangely as they passed each other by. John looked excited, but as if he had seen a ghost. In awe but in a scared way. It made Brian very nervous, and he left instantly without saying anything back to Roger. Wait, had he ever introduced himself to Roger? He must have. Not that it was surprising, that would be the second person who knew his name without him knowing who they were in return. 

 

The night became just as awfully loud as Brian had anticipated. It was only eleven, the TV was running something neither him nor Chrissie cared about. She was reading, he wasn’t sure what. He hadn’t gone to the party mostly because it was too illogical. What would he say to Chrissie? He didn’t want to lie anymore now, even though it would have been easy to just say he’d gone out to have a drink with the lads. So he just stayed on the couch, eyes plastered to the screen, his leg bouncing restlessly. Not because he was annoyed by the noise, he actually kind of found it enjoyable and amusing now. His thoughts drifted to what he would do if he were there. Dance, sing along. Talk to Roger, probably, ask about Freddie and what they’d said about him, maybe. Roger would make a quip about it, his eyes glimmering. His eyes were very hard not to look at when he was right in front of you. The memory of the first time he saw him popped into Brian’s brain. He’d been very drunk, and almost flirtatious, though the thought was ridiculous. Locks of damp hair swaying around his face, his husky voice, his bare chest-  
“I’m going to bed,” Brian coughed, feeling queasy, uncomfortable, and hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! I feel like the bandwagon is slowly but surely beginning to roll. I personally always get a bit turned off when writers rush into relationships and stuff which is why I'm such a slow-burn fan. But I don't want to bore anyone! The next chapter I already know will kind of be the kick-off. This is sort of a coming-out story, and that's a long process for most people, but hopefully I'll make it worthwhile! 
> 
> Thanks for reading, lovelies!


	4. ”What Is It, Roger?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Roger are respectively having a hard time. Roger tells his family some life-altering news, and Brian and Chrissie have a moment of finality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one! It was hard to write because I knew how I wanted it but as I wrote it, it didn't quite want to come out that way, you know? So I'm not really sure what I feel about it. But it's important, and I hope you like it! <3
> 
> Fair warning: There will be some homophobia in this chapter, and some implied violence because of it. It's not very graphic, but I think a heads up is in order!

The flat was very quiet. It was Christmas time, so most students(which was the general majority of residents in this area) had finished their semester and were home with their families. Brian had planned to do the same thing, but ended up staying in London. Now he sort of wished he hadn’t; everything was so quiet here. No banging in the walls, no thundering footsteps or rock music to be heard from above. Freddie had a Christmas Day gathering with whoever he felt like inviting, which was most, so Brian supposed he could go pay him a visit then. Chrissie had left the night before to be with her family, or to be away from Brian, rather. Barely a month ago things had been stable. Brian looked up at the ceiling.  
“You fucked stuff up, you know that?” he mumbled, taking a long drink from his glass. “Now you’re not even there anymore.” 

It was true; Roger had disappeared a couple of days ago as well. Brian couldn’t see a reason why he should somehow have known about this, but he felt a bit like something was missing. It was most likely Chrissie and not Roger - the stranger - doing that, but still he was the biggest thing on his mind. Maybe it wasn’t Roger himself that was the problem either. It was how Brian felt about him. He’d talked to him a few times only, and had always been able to ignore that jumpy feeling in his stomach when he did. Couldn’t get the image of his face, his body, out of his head. Just passing each other was fine, a brief moment of eye contact he thought he could handle. But the lingering, yet fleeting, moments had been enough to set his world at an angle apparently. Now everything was wonky, tipping over and rolling away from him. Brian sighed. He couldn’t be that way, that just wasn’t possible. 

… 

A bright, golden light filtered through the Alfa Romeo’s already dirty windshield. Though the road from King’s Lynn to London wasn’t a dirt road, it had been raining plenty and the puddles splashing from passing cars was unavoidable. But now it was clear as day - though it was afternoon of course - and it seemed like it was going to be a beautiful sunset to the left of the car. Ahead however, back in London, there was a sheet of looming, dark rainclouds. Raining on Christmas, Roger thought with a bitter sniff. His knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel too tightly, thinking about the hours that had just passed. 

He’d gone home for Christmas on the 20th, four days ago, as he had promised he would do when he moved away. Though it hadn’t been quite as peaceful as he’d hoped. Roger had forgotten how much his family could get on his nerves, and especially his extended one. Living at home he had been able to handle it because it was just an everyday thing. Now that he’d gotten a feel for the city and the way people lived their lives there, the way he wanted to live his, he hadn’t been able to stand it. The rules, the ignorance. He felt guilty enough about his entire life without anyone telling him to. 

_It was tradition in the Taylor family to eat a joined dinner with the close family on the day before Christmas Eve, and then the aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws and the rest would come on that day and they’d all have a wonderful, chaotic time together until Boxing Day. Roger had always been a black sheep among them. He knew it, they knew it. Especially his grandparents. But the dinner the day before Christmas Eve was the second or maybe third worst he had ever felt._

_Though it was just Roger, his sister, his parents and their parents, the table was very joyous and loud. A good, loud company was always a good thing in Roger’s book, and he’d always liked Christmas time despite his large family getting on his nerves every once and again. But this time it was heavy for him. He felt like he was carrying the worst possible burden that would break his family apart._

_He wanted to drop out of university._

_He had only been studying for a year, and just recently moved into his own place instead of living with his aunt just outside of London, so he knew it would seem very impulsive. But he was certain. He just wasn’t sure how to break the news, now that everyone were so happily chatting without him. But eventually, he didn’t have to be the one to bring it up._  
_“So, dear, how are studies going?” his grandmother asked politely, and Roger suddenly felt like everyone were watching him. He began to sweat and his hands became clammy._  
_“Yes, son! We’ve barely talked about that since you got home,” his father joked. In fact, it had been the only thing people were asking him. Even their neighbours who he didn’t know or care about at all. His grandparents all listened closely with proud expressions. Roger felt guilty, but he couldn't lie.  
“Well, I- I actually wanted to bring that up,” he said quietly, watching their faces become question marks. “I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and, well…”_

Next thing he had known, the table was silent. He’d uttered the words quietly but clearly. At first came denial, of course. 

_His father laughed nervously after a beat. “What are you saying, son? Do you not want to study dentistry?” His mother looked at him, then at Roger and smiled._  
_“That’s...that’s a shame, Roger, but it’s alright. I’m sure you can change your degree to something else. I’m sure you’d be good at any other healthcare-” she tried, but Roger cut her off.  
_ _“No, I mean- I don’t want to study at all anymore. I want to drop out. I am dropping out now, after the holidays,” he said, trying very desperately to raise his voice a bit so they wouldn’t ask any more questions. But it was wishful thinking. His father’s face had turned red as he spoke, and Roger was silently reminded of his rage. It had been a long time since he experienced it, not since he started taking school seriously and his father had stopped drinking so much._

Roger looked at himself in the rear-view mirror. The bruise was just barely grazing his eye, and it had gone from freshly red to bluish-purple in the span of a few hours. The news of his university decision had made the whole house gloomy and quiet for the rest of the day, he could hear his parents arguing as he hid away in his old childhood bedroom. The walls still had the old Pink Floyd and The Who posters on them. Otherwise it was all quite cleaned out. The desk was cleared, the wardrobe too - he’d kept the clothes he brought in the bag on the floor. Even the rug was gone, for some reason. Roger had felt very out of place, more so than he had growing up there, if that was possible. His London flat hadn’t quite begun to feel like home yet, either. It still smelled a little like the old owners, not bad, but different. He hadn’t gotten quite everything the way he wanted. The only thing that really felt like home, like something familiar and reliable, was the car he was driving. It had been his grandfather’s car when Roger was a kid. He had helped him repaint over the original silver finish to dark green when he was twelve, and he and his family had gone on many fishing trips in it. Finally his grandfather had given it to him when he moved to London to study as a congratulatory gift. Roger wondered if he regretted that now. 

His glance flickered to the mirror again and he admired his bruise a little. Not that it was pretty, but it was genuine. It felt final. Though the fighting over his education had been quite brutal, it wasn’t what had caused it initially. All that definitely added a good portion of the fury that would come the next day though, on Christmas Eve. 

_The front door and hallway was crowded with family of varied extension, and everyone were greeting each other with lovely, slightly pained smiles, hurried hugs and questions they didn’t actually want the answers for. Like ‘How’s the front porch coming along?’ and ‘How are you?’. Roger huffed at the thought, but greeted his third cousins and aunt-in-laws with plastered glee. He wasn’t sure if aunt-in-laws were a thing. Those people who just tell you you’ve grown but you have no clue who they are._

_His immediate family were ignoring him. Except Clare, maybe. She was sympathetic, and kept asking curiously about London. Roger was already angry with his family and loved seeing their faces when he told his party stories. It felt like he was finally being honest and brutally so, at the same time as being petty and vexatious, which were his favourite things to be. All day he had been wondering if he shouldn’t tell them the other thing as well. That thing that would make them want to disown him. But it wasn’t smart. Not at all._ _At Christmas lunch he was invisible. His little cousins had gotten to open some of their presents and he could see in their faces they wanted to talk to him about it really badly, but it seemed the recent scoop about him was too loaded and everyone had told their kids to stay away. Or that’s how it seemed. Nobody really spoke to him. Some barely looked at him. Roger smiled to himself as he thought about how they were taking life too seriously, his life. He could feel how when his extended family would go home and he’d be left here with only his father, mother and sister again, hell was awaiting him. The devil would rise from the earth and stick it in his arse. So, if everyone were already finished with him, he could go out with a bang. He picked up the pastry fork and rung his glass like a bell. Everyone’s eyes turned to him, and the confidence he had been building up suddenly became a pool in his stomach. He couldn’t say it. It was too impulsive._  
_“What is it, Roger?” His father’s low voice turned the last, stubborn murmurings of jolly conversation quiet._  
_“I have something to say… for myself,” Roger announced, voice unsteady. He cleared it._  
_“You getting married, pal?” some uncle joked. Or maybe he was serious. Either way, it made Roger more sure he needed to speak up._  
_“We don’t need to talk about university now, dear,” his mother tried and his father gave her a stern look. Apparently everyone didn’t know yet, somehow, so the murmurs began._  
_“What about university?”_  
_“He’s dropping out, isn’t he?”_  
_Apparently people already had their views of him. They were accurate, of course, but he got annoyed. Roger sighed and his hands actually began to shake. Just say it, idiot, just say it, he thought.  
_ _“I like men,” he said as normally as he could. If it had been quiet before, it was nothing compared to this. It was like the grave. Like he was dead. “I’m gay.”_

Everyone had looked hurt. Disgusted. Offended. Afraid. Even the kids, who Roger thought shouldn’t know about this stuff but were inconveniently there, had looked ticked off. Of course their parents had been feeding them hate about these things since they were babes. The next thing Roger had known his father was telling him with the most terrifying voice he had ever heard that he was no longer welcome there. In front of his whole family. Not loudly, barely even aggressively, but calmly. Some child started crying. Some adults too. He was dead to them now. Then Roger had stood up, gone up to his room and started packing his things. He hated crying, he hated it so much he had gotten more angry with himself than with his family. But he did it anyway. Then as he had gone outside to the car, his father was waiting for him. He was pale as a ghost, and his eyes were fearful. Roger realized what was happening and stopped in his tracks as his father walked toward him with furious passion, grabbed his shoulder and clocked him right in the face.  
“You are no son of mine,” he had said, pointing his finger at Roger who was stumbling backwards for a moment. Normally the adrenaline from being punched in the fucking face would have overtaken him to fight back, but something had shut down in him. Roger believed it. Nodded. “And don’t you think we’ll keep supporting your rent and food and all that, if you’re not going to study you’re going to work. And you won’t set foot in this house until you’ve cleared… when you’ve cured yourself f that illness you claim to have. And you will, Roger. You will do that, or you will be dead to us, do you understand?” Roger was frozen in place for a long minute as his father stormed back inside. Then he got into the old Alfa Romeo, looked at his shaking hands before he started it up and gripped the wheel tightly. 

Now that felt like a lifetime ago, though only a couple of hours had passed. Three, to be exact. The time it took to drive from King’s Lynn to London. His new home was within reach once more. 

...

Freddie’s apartment wasn’t as cramped as Brian thought it would be. Some familiar faces like Mary and Paul(who Brian had never particularly liked, but Fred called him ridiculous about it). Then there was Jim, a new guy he hadn’t met many times before. He seemed nice. One of Mary’s friends, Veronica. She was a bit new in town, but was friendly enough. There were a few more, too, and they were all quite happy despite being away from their families. Brian was not in the best mood he’d ever been though, despite Freddie doing his best to cheer him up. They were sitting across from another on the nice, red couch, as they had done many times before.  
“Darling, you obviously need to talk about this. Walk me through it,” Freddie pleaded, looking very sympathetic but also very excited to hear something dramatic.  
“Let’s not, Freddie, it’s Christmas,” Brian defended loosely, drinking a bit more.  
“All the more reason. Christmas is a time to connect with our friends and tell them important stuff,” Freddie informed with far too much confidence.  
“I always thought it was about the birth of Christ initially, but whatever you say, Freddie. Well…” 

_“Chrissie-” Brian hadn’t gotten a chance to say anything for the last half hour._  
_“Don’t say anything, Brian. You know that I’m right. And if you don’t, I truly hope you realize it soon. For your own sake,” Chrissie interrupted. She had tears in her eyes, but she was speaking calmly. Brian had a lump in his throat as well, and he felt very exposed and nervous._  
_“How could you possibly know that? Actually, why would you even think that?” Brian exclaimed, throwing his arms out._  
_“We’ve been together for two years. And in the beginning, I guess I…”_  
_“In the beginning? What do you mean, in the beginning?”_  
_Chrissie ignored him. “I felt like maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal, I thought I could change you. Fix you, you know? All girls think that. And as the months went it really seemed like you liked me,” she gulped._  
_“I do! I love you!” Brian breathed, still not hearing what she was saying. Or rather, not wanting to._  
_“You don’t! I realized you were always a bit distant, absent-minded. I thought it was a bit endearing. Can you believe that? I didn’t mind that you didn’t notice when I tried to look nice for you, or that you never, even once, touched me without me having to initiate it,” Chrissie explained heavily, pacing back and forth a little bit, sometimes shooting Brian sad, frustrated glances. Brian couldn’t say anything._  
_“And then when I thought you were cheating on me, I felt relieved. Because if it was another woman, at least I wasn’t a complete idiot. And maybe I’d even still have a chance. But women wasn’t it. Not even a little,” she finished and finally her tears ran down her cheeks. Brian turned around and walked into the kitchen, his blood boiling in his veins. He couldn’t tell why he was angry. Was he angry with Chrissie? Himself?_  
_“Chrissie, I don’t think you understand. Don’t you think I’d know about this myself?” Brian argued after a minute of silence between them across the flat._  
_“I don’t care, Brian. It doesn't surprise me. You can’t see beyond your own nose, so why would this be any different?” she sighed softly, sounding like she had given up._  
_“So what are we doing about it?” Brian asked back in an equally soft tone, starting to feel choked up again. Chrissie glared at him.  
“We are not doing anything. I’m moving out tomorrow. I’m staying at Margaret’s tonight. Merry Christmas, Brian. I do hope you figure this out.”_

__

>

“Then I called my parents and said I wouldn’t come home for Christmas, told them we broke up. Didn’t tell them all that, though…”  
Freddie sat in silence, listening very closely as Brian was telling loosely about his last moments with Chrissie. When he wrapped it up, he sighed very deeply.  
“I’m not really sure what to say, darling,” he mumbled. “I mean, I always had a bit of a feeling…”  
“Shut it, Fred. I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Brian snapped quietly. The doorbell rang. Brian’s hands were white from keeping them tightly clenched for the last few minutes, and his head was spinning. He was a little bit tipsy. “I’ll get that, and I think I’ll go home again.”  
“No, Brian! I’m sorry. You’ve only been here for a little bit, stay, dear!” Freddie called out, but Brian was already moving toward the door, pushing softly through a couple of groups of people. 

Brian opened the door and found the person he absolutely least in the world expected, and probably least wanted to see, with a pretty massive bruise on his face. The anger Brian had been feeling, gradually began to melt away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 finished!
> 
> That was a dramatic time! I would love to hear what you think of it, as I wasn't really sure myself. Thank you for reading, lovelies!<33


	5. ”What Are You Doing Here?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Roger are both inconveniently out of place, and both rather shaken up, at Freddie's apartment for Christmas. They finally get to have a real conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry this took a little while, I've just been tired from school and had some health complications, so this chapter took a few days to piece together. I hope you like it!<3

Drum-roll, please. 

It was Roger. At the door of Freddie’s apartment, that is. He looked exhausted and even beaten up. Terrible, really. It seemed they both were searching for words, but neither could find any that would move this very tense and awkward moment forward. They just stood there, first staring with surprise, but soon flicking their eyes away.  
“Roger! Oh my God, darling, what happened to your face?” Freddie’s comforting call came from behind Brian and soon he, too, shared the doorway.  
“Hey, Freddie. I was, uh- I’m taking you up on the offer. Of spending Christmas here, I mean,” Roger answered with uncertainty, but didn’t invite himself in.  
“Oh, wonderful! Come in, for God’s sake,” Freddie answered warmly, and Brian moved out of the way, hoping to become invisible. Though Roger still shot him a look as he walked past. It was very hard to imagine what he was thinking. “Go sit, I’ll be with you in a second!” Freddie added to Roger as he went into the apartment, made sure he was out of earshot, then beamed at Brian: “I wasn’t sure he’d make it, but you’re welcome!”  
“Excuse me?” Brian smiled disbelievingly.  
“Come on, just thank me! When you told me about Chrissie it all fell into place. I could smell your hots for that guy from miles-”  
“Shut up, Freddie,” Brian cut off cooly and walked away from him. Feeling something, anything, for another man was bad enough. Having people pick at it was torture. He shuddered and watched Freddie catch up with Roger, putting his arm around his shoulder and starting to introduce him to everyone.  
“Bri, why don’t you find some wine? Somewhere in the kitchen, surely. Or maybe somewhere else,” Freddie then called to Brian, who sighed deeply. At least he’d get to be alone for a bit.

Why did it have to be him? As if Brian wasn’t confused enough. He just wanted to forget Roger, even though they didn’t even know each other he had somehow caused so much trouble that Brian hated him a bit. Brian hadn’t initially believed it, but Chrissie’s words had been the only thing in his brain the last few days. _Women wasn’t it. Not even a little._ If only it had been at least a little. An ongoing battle was being fought over it as Brian searched absentmindedly through cupboards and cabinets for wine. He figured he would have known if he were different somehow. Maybe he had known, but just completely denied it up until now. He wasn’t a very confrontational person all the time, anyway. He looked around for quite a while, peeking between pots, cans of food, in the breadbin. 

“Um-” a voice broke the silence, and Brian turned his head. He had been standing still, just kind of staring at his hand hanging on a cupboard handle. It was Roger, again. “Freddie’s asking what’s taking you so long,” he asked, lowering his voice on purpose.  
“Nothing,” Brian answered with a sigh, but the quiet that followed was at too high risk of becoming tense that he had to continue. “What are you doing here?” 

Brian didn’t mean to sound rude, but really, what was going on? The chances of them both apparently having nowhere better to be on Christmas weren’t that high. Especially since Roger had so many other friends. Maybe that’s just it, Brian thought. So many friends, so little family. Roger and Freddie had known each other for a month, and although Brian knew Freddie was an absolutely wonderful friend and very generous person- actually it was understandable why he was here. 

“Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be with your girlfriend?” Roger asked slyly and leaned against the doorframe, picking up a cigarette and lighting it with practiced movements. Brian frowned at his question.  
“That’s a very forward thing to ask,” he answered, pretending to look around a bit more.  
“No it isn’t, I’m just wondering. You got a pretty long stick up your arse, d’you know that?” Roger scoffed. Brian couldn’t find it in himself then to retort, and it became quiet again. Maybe the question hadn’t been completely uncalled for itself, it was just how he said it. The thought reminded Brian of Chrissie, as that was the sort of thing she would say. Not the stick thing. Roger looked a bit apologetic after a while, his eyes meeting Brian’s only in insecure glances as he kept pretending to search for wine. 

The cigarette in his hand burned in vain for a long time before he remembered he had it and took a drag, still looking somewhere else. Brian would normally tear his eyes away, but he couldn’t find the bottomless feeling that would usually make him do that. He studied Roger’s expression, his deep eyes. His eyelashes were impossibly long. In fact, he was very feminine in his appearance in general, except for that terrible bruise that sort of ruined but also sort of made the entire look. Maybe that’s why I feel this way about him, Brian thought. That could definitely be a possibility. He was just so pretty, like a girl. He had to break the silence eventually, or Roger would just leave awkwardly. Or worse, keep standing there and keep making him nervous with his jittery smoking and fleeting glances.

“So… I take it you’ve visited your family already?” he asked casually, not really knowing if he truly cared. He probably did. Roger was quiet for too long for such an easy question, and Brian looked over to see a blank expression on his face. “Or?”  
“What makes you say that?” Roger asked, looking a bit spooked. Brian shrugged softly.  
“No banging on the walls at midnight? Not even any music? In fact, the silence has been deafening,” he joked, and Roger laughed. Though not at him, it seemed, but rather out of nervousness.  
“Oh, that? You’re a perceptive little fuck, aren’t ya?” he joked back, and although Brian didn’t usually enjoy being called a ‘fuck’, he couldn’t help but laugh. 

The sensation of tingling and electricity was heavy in Brian’s stomach and hands as they spoke. Apart from the theoretic part of Chrissie’s accusations of his oddities, he had thought a lot about the practical part of it. Early on he had decided he wouldn’t, she was wrong and that was the end of it. But then he felt ridiculous, knowing deep down he was at fault. He knew he was different. He could tell by the way his mind began to travel at light speed at times, thinking about messy, secret things. Bare skin, strong arms, heavy, raspy breathing. In class, before falling asleep, when he was with Chrissie. Even, if not especially, in an intimate way. It was happening now, too. So he had to stop it. 

“And anyway, you won’t have to deal with the bangin’ and whatever else I do that bothers you, which seems to be everything, for much longer. I have to move out soon,” Roger explained in his gruff voice. Brian choked on his saliva and ended up coughing for a second.  
“Why?” he asked, far too quickly. This time Roger didn’t give him one of those judging looks like he had done every time Brian had fucked up socially so far. “Landlord got sick of you?”  
“Not exactly. Or well, probably. But no, I uh- I dropped out of school. And my parents supported my rent, car insurance, all that stuff. Now they don’t want to, which is pretty understandable. So I’m...well, the plan is a little unclear. Bottom line, I’m out of your life soon.” He sighed and gave Brian a last glance as he was about to leave the kitchen, but Brian was way too curious to let him go yet. And he felt terrible, for some reason.  
“So you’re moving back in with your parents, then?” Brian asked. Roger laughed, first with actual amusement, but then he looked a little bit hopeless.  
“No, no. No, never.”  
“Okay.” Brian could tell Roger was getting a bit strained and quickly decided to stop badgering him about it. Clearly he had some family issues, judging by the way his eyes became wide when they were mentioned. Not that it was a surprise, considering the way he was. But the way he looked when he talked about his family was similar to a window; Brian felt like he could see his emotions head-on and personal. He was uncomfortable, and he wanted to run away from the whole thing. Brian studied his bruise. He had definitely been punched in the face. It was all dark purple and swollen, making his cheekbone slightly more prominent. It just barely missed his eye, which was still just a tiny bit more squinted than the other.

Then Roger realized Brian was looking at him again, and their eyes met for a brief second. They weren’t standing so far apart anymore, Brian noticed, and a sudden rush went through his body. A shiver, followed by a sweat, and he couldn’t look away again. It was unbearable, he had to say something before he did something really stupid.  
“How’d you get that bruise, anyway? It’s not pretty,” he asked with a much more quiet voice than he had anticipated from himself. Roger cleared his throat, apparently also breaking away from their trance-like situation. He didn’t answer. Not even a little, no shrug or anything. He just looked away with what looked like defeat. It was enough to tell the whole story. Brian puzzled it together, though he couldn’t be sure. But it had something to do with his dropping out and his family, at least. Brian felt bad about asking, realizing it may have been overstepping some kind of invisible line. Maybe he could make up for it by saying something personal himself.  
“Chrissie and I broke up,” he said and realized it was very out of the blue when it was out loud. Roger squinted up at him. “You asked earlier why I’m not spending Christmas with her. That’s why.” 

Roger looked like he was about to say something, and it was an incredibly long moment before it was broken by Freddie’s voice.  
“Brian, dear, I just realized I’ve already served all the wine I have- sorry! Am I interrupting something here?”  
Roger and Brian looked at Freddie with what seemed like equal amounts of embarrassment and surprise. Freddie himself was beaming.  
“No,” they answered at the same time.  
“Whatever you say, lovelies. I thought we could open some presents, though I know neither of you brought any, but I just have to mention- I overheard you the last minute and I realized something. Bri, Chrissie doesn’t live with you anymore,” he begun and Brian rolled his eyes.  
“Wonderful observation, Fred.”  
“Let me finish! Roger, dear, you are practically homeless come next rent due.”  
“You know Freddie, you’re really cheering us up here.”  
“Stop it! I thought, since both of you are so desperate for new roommates-” Brian was about to cut in, but Freddie gave him a deathglare. “You could move in together!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! They talked! Like real people do!
> 
> And what a nice little twist at the end there, huh! This was my plan all along heheh
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos, comments and general support on this story! I saw that it has 40 subscriptions which actually made me blush a little, which is a bit embarrassing(but thank you so much!!) I'm really happy people are enjoying it!:D


	6. "It's A Terrible Idea."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Roger react to Freddie's suggestion. Roger also meets two of Freddie's friends, and they have a friendly sit-down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> This chapter is pretty short, I didn't want it to be a filler but as the story's changing I kind of needed one! But I think it's pretty good, as things are beginning to connect a little. Also this chapter has a LOT of dialogue, sorry! 
> 
> Hope you like it!

Move in. Together? Both Roger and Brian were staring in disbelief at Freddie, who was beaming like the sun.  
“Don’t look at me like that! You know it’s a good idea,” he assured.  
“It’s a terrible idea,” Brian argued, acting like Roger wasn’t even in the room. He felt a little offended, but at the same time, he didn’t think it was a good idea either. They didn’t know each other, and Brian didn’t like him.  
“We’re not even friends,” Roger agreed with him. Brian nodded, and the expression on Freddie’s face became a bit more hopeless and desperate, truly like he couldn’t understand why they were arguing with him about this.  
“So? Brian’s a wonderful person, I’m sure you’d get on!” he cried out. Roger laughed with a lot of unamusement to it.  
“He hates me.” Brian turned to him in surprise. He had a comical expression when he was surprised or confused, Roger had noticed. Eyebrows practically at his hairline, a small frown.  
“What? No I don’t?” Brian stumbled over his words. Roger rolled his eyes at him, but it did feel kind of nice for him to say that. It was always something, to not be hated.  
“What are you all squabbling about?” came a new voice. It was someone Roger hadn’t met yet, he had kind eyes and a mustache, but something seemed very eager about him. Roger instantly noticed a shift of atmosphere, especially from Brian, who straightened himself, crossed his arms and furrowed his eyebrows. He didn’t like this guy. Roger decided he didn’t like him either.  
“Paul, don’t you think they should move in together?” Freddie asked him genuinely, and Roger got a bit annoyed. Couldn’t they at least talk about this in private?  
“If we’re having this discussion, I’d rather not have it with a whole crowd,” Brian said instantly, as if he was reading Roger’s thoughts.  
“Why not? I’m Paul, nice to meet you,” the man introduced himself. Roger grabbed his hand hesitantly.  
“Roger.”  
“Oh, quite sturdy, aren’t you? You look the type,” Paul commented, casting a glance on his bruise. Roger pulled his hand back and sniffed.  
“I guess,” he answered. Roger had been in enough fights and had enough one-night stands to know a challenge when he saw one, and this man was either trying to put him in his place or flirt with him. He preferred the former.  
“Roger’s almost too beautiful to be male, despite that fucking boo-boo, we all know it. That’s not why we’re here,” Freddie broke their intense stare.  
“No, aren’t we here for Christmas?” came the woman known as Mary’s soft voice in. She stood by Freddie’s side, and he seemed happy to see her as always. Roger already liked her, she was kind, smart and she made Paul shut up.  
“I think so, Mary. So let’s forget this, alright? My answer is no,” Brian finished the whole thing. “I am going home now, Fred, it was lovely. Merry Christmas.” With that he turned his heel and walked out the door behind him, somehow already having put on shoes.  
“You all had to make a crowd, didn’t you? Scared him off,” Freddie sighed. Mary took a sip of her drink, and Paul was smiling a bit to himself. 

Roger wanted to leave too, but it felt too rude now. He wouldn’t normally care all too much, but Freddie was actually probably the closest friend he had right now, except for John perhaps. Still, he had met them both very recently.  
“What do you think, Roger?” Freddie interrupted the silence that had filled the hallway as he started to walk back to the living room.  
“I told you, it’s a bad a idea,” he answered. Freddie looked over his shoulder with a smug face.  
“No, Brian said that. What do you think?” he asked again. Roger sighed.  
“The two of you are already like an old married couple, why not make it official?” Paul asked with a bit of a taunt to it. Roger shot him a glare in the neck.  
“We don’t know each other! Is that hard for you people to understand?” he snapped.  
“What I think Paul is trying to say, Roger,” comforted Mary, putting a hand on his shoulder, “is that you do really need to find a way to pay your rent. And maybe getting a roommate, in general, is not a bad idea.”  
“Word spreads quickly around here,” Roger commented to Freddie as he leaned back on his couch. Freddie simply shrugged.  
“We’re all friends, anyway.”  
“I mean-” Roger cleared his throat and looked at Mary. “You’re not wrong in that.”  
“Exactly. And Brian is a nice person. He’s just going through a rough patch,” Mary explained. “Which is why he needs it too, I think.”  
“He doesn’t like me,” Roger repeated from earlier. Freddie handed him a drink, which he instantly took a sip of. “And he’s not my favourite guy, either.”  
“Are you sure?” Paul intervened. Roger had already forgotten he was there.  
“What are you implying?” he retorted. Freddie sighed, probably getting tired of everyone bickering.  
“Play nice,” he commanded.  
“It doesn’t take a genius to see you’re intoxicated with him, boy,” Paul explained quietly and Roger felt his blood begin to boil.  
“Do yourself a favour and shut up,” Roger barked at him, grabbing him by the shoulder to turn him around. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”  
“Roger,” Freddie interrupted. He looked at Paul, who sighed and left without another word. They all waited for him to leave, and it seemed the other people in the room had quieted down for a moment to see what was going on, before casually continuing with their conversations.  
“Why would he say that? Just because he’s queer he thinks he has some sort of psychic power, huh? I’m not even-” Roger interrupted himself, reminding himself that he had come out to his family. It felt wrong to lie about it to other people. But he didn’t want to tell anyone.  
“Not even gay? Darling, you don’t remember?” Freddie questioned, jumping down on the couch once more and patting for Roger to sit beside him. He hesitated, but did as advised. Mary sat down on the other side of him.  
“Remember what?” he asked, suddenly very confused. He was quite clearly missing something here.  
“During your party, the one when I came up and we first met?” Freddie begun, looking like he was hoping Roger at least remembered this. He did, so he nodded. He had a feeling he knew where this was going. “You got hammered. So did I. You were blabbering on about your annoying neighbour. You know, his messy, beautiful hair-”  
“His height, his handsome face,” Mary added in, smiling into her drink. Roger sighed very deeply. The memories popped up, slowly but surely. His heart began to beat like the one of a rabbit.  
“I didn’t say that,” he tried to reassure himself.  
“You did, dear,” Freddie nodded. “And since I...well, I relate to you - not with Brian in particular, though I agree he’s gorgeous - I decided to help you along. That’s why I suggested you should move in together. The planets aligned, I think.” 

Roger’s hands were shaking a little bit, he noticed. He intertwined his fingers, looking at them a bit emptily, trying to gather his emotions. When he came out to his family it was planned, he knew he had to do it eventually and then seemed a good a time as any. And he knew he didn’t need them, or he thought so. But this was different, because he cared about what these people thought about him. And not even remembering it was stressful, though Freddie said he was the same way. That was actually very, very comforting. He looked up at the two of them.  
“I see,” he answered after a long silence. Mary brushed her hand on his arm.  
“You really don’t remember?” Freddie asked, noticing he was a bit shaken up and speaking a bit quieter. Roger got embarrassed.  
“Not really, but that’s alright. I think it’s a good thing. Actually, um-” Roger cleared his throat. “I know I told you I got this because of the school thing, but my dad isn’t that much of arsehole, really.” Roger’s fingers brushed over his bruise. He could tell it had started swelling his eye little bit. “I told my family about it, too. Sober,” he laughed a little. Mary and Freddie didn’t.  
“That’s terrible, Rog,” Mary hummed. “I’m sorry.”  
“No, no. Don’t be. I don’t care. But that’s why they won’t support me, really,” Roger sighed. “So that whole thing is kind of...ruining my life right now.”  
“I understand. I’m sorry if I...crossed a line for you, Rog,” Freddie apologized. Roger looked at him, and he began to tear up a little. That’s it, he thought.  
“No worries, Fred. It’s alright. Um...I think I’m gonna head home, too. Thank you for the drinks. And uh-” Roger cleared his throat again. “And everything else.”

Mary smiled at him as he stood up, and Freddie came with him to the door.  
“You should think about it, at least,” he hummed, giving Roger a hug. He realized suddenly that he had known Freddie for about two weeks, and he was already one of the best friends he’d had. A lump formed in his throat.  
“I will,” he promised.  
“I know he wouldn’t mind,” Freddie assured with a nod. Roger rolled his eyes.  
“Alright, Freddie.”  
“Now get some rest, will you?”  
“Absolutely, see you later!”

And with that he was out the door. The stairwell was very quiet. Roger thought back to when he’d first moved to this complex. Someone had forgotten to close their door open, and was playing guitar. The tones had echoed in the entire building, smooth and romantic. At first it was a little annoying, but then he had listened properly and ended up sitting outside the door. He read the sign, Brian May. Chrissie’s name had never been on the door. From that moment he had been infatuated. Now he was outside his door again, a bit shaken up, a bit confused. Roger shook his body, jumped around a bit, gave himself a slap. He had forgotten the bruise, so it hurt a whole lot. Then he knocked. The wait was unbearable, though short. Brian opened the door, and they had only a quick moment of silence.  
“We should move in together,” they said in unison. Then they kind of smiled.  
“Do you want to come in?” Brian asked. Roger nodded awkwardly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well done, you made it to the end of this little chapter!
> 
> Roger made some progress, so that's good! I haven't figured out his character all the way though. I think he should be angrier and meaner, but that's kind of hard to write! Next chapter I think Roger and Brian are gonna hang out, finally! Man this burns slower than I thought..but that's what I like so deal w it
> 
> Thanks for all your support, babes! I'm having fun writing so I hope you all think it's fun to read! Also I'm sorry for my cliffhangers they're accidents I swear


	7. "I Have Cinnamon Tea, If You'd Like?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger and Brian hang out for a bit in Bri's apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I was gone for a little while cause I went and saw Twenty One Pilots in Stockholm! It was the second time and I was much closer to the stage this time so that was fun! :-D
> 
> This chapter is kind of long, but I love domestic hanging out so you get it! Happy reading, and thanks for all your support!<3

Roger kicked his shoes off, and looked around as fast as he could, as though he needed to memorize it for some reason.  
“What changed your mind?” they both asked, once more in unison. They laughed a little.  
“You first,” Roger said. Brian sighed a little.  
“Chrissie came and got all her things yesterday,” Brian explained and felt his cheeks heat up. How was he going to explain this? “Do you want tea?” he interrupted. Roger looked at him strangely and nodded. 

The reason he’d changed his mind? He wasn’t totally sure. He’d looked around and seen all the emptiness where Chrissie’s things used to be. Her clothes, her toothbrush, some random things he hadn’t known was hers like the rug in the livingroom and the monstera plant in the kitchen. Now it looked like he had just moved in again. And they did have a spare room anyway - or he did - and Brian hadn’t realized that he’d gotten so used to not being alone. Or at least, seeing that there was always someone else around even when she wasn’t home. It didn’t take long for it all to get lonely, and it was probably just how most people felt after a break-up. He missed her little things, like her humming, the smart things she said and all that. But at the same time he didn’t miss her. He didn’t miss her warmth, barely even her company, that much. The more they were apart, the more he realized he had never, truly, been in love with her. Not the same way that she was with him, and that was heavy to live with every day. 

“So I’m a replacement?” Roger questioned. Brian tried not to roll his eyes. Right, he was sarcastic.  
“Isn’t that the point?” he asked back, putting the teapot on the stove. He had an old one, from his mother. Roger quieted for a moment.  
“Oh yeah.” The soft hissing from the stove filled the kitchen and Roger helped himself to a seat at the table as Brian leaned back on the countertop. Brian noted how usually when he had seen Roger, his hair had been done up with product and teasing, but not now. Now it fell naturally, it had some waves in it, his bangs were swiftly split over his forehead and the slightly longer bits on the sides of it were like a little frame around his face. It made him look much softer and kinder than usual. Much more feminine. It was confusing. “You do that a lot,” Roger commented.  
“Do what?” Make tea? Stand around? Stare at people’s hair?  
“Lean on the counter. You’re so tall your arse is over the edge,” Roger explained with a small smile. Brian actually did roll his eyes that time.  
“I suppose. Get used to it.”  
“Sure.” Pause. “We really don’t know each other, do we?”  
“Obviously, we just met,” Brian sighed and scratched his scruffle. 

It was true. Their first meeting had been so startling and theatrical, they had both sort of been thrown into the deep end of their not-yet friendship, whatever it was so far. The chat they’d had in Freddie’s kitchen, though not deep, had felt personal somehow. Roger had told him a little bit about his family, or enough for Brian to get an impression of who they were. Brian had told Roger about Chrissie and his break-up, although that was a bit inevitable. Something about the atmosphere then had been special. Undoubtedly, they had heard the music and talking from the living room, but a stillness had still surrounded them. At least that’s how Brian remembered it. He had gotten lost in the memory, and the teapot was whistling angrily. 

“I have cinnamon tea, if you’d like? Otherwise I just have the commons,” Brian offered, opening the little box on the counter.  
“Cinnamon tea?” Roger said in a questioning tone.  
“Freddie got it for me. I rather like it.”  
“I’ll have that, then.”

In fact Chrissie had gotten it for them for Christmas time. He didn’t feel like saying that, probably because it was a bit fresh still. Either way, it felt weird to say now. Not like they had anything else to talk about. He poured up the hot drinks and gave one to Roger, who sniffed it suspiciously. Probably smelled of cinnamon.  
“Merry Christmas,” he said softly. They both paused slightly and looked at each other. It was still Christmas Eve. It had been the longest day ever.  
“Merry Christmas, Brian,” Roger said back. “What time is it?” Brian checked.  
“Ten.”  
“Huh. This has been…a long day, man,” Roger sighed. Brian smiled, it was like an echo of his thoughts. The kitchen quieted and Roger took another sip of his tea. “This is pretty good.” Brian smiled again, reached out his mug and they clanked them together. He thought about it.  
“This is our first Christmas as roommates. Given that we will be,” he thought out loud.  
“Oh yeah,” Roger nodded. “I’ve never had a roommate before. And honestly, I’d rather be having Christmas here than anywhere else.”

They paused. Brian looked at Roger, whose eyes had widened. His face became red and he sighed, and Brian laughed at him.  
“That came out wrong,” Roger stammered.  
“Whatever,” Brian shrugged, giving his tea a long sip as well. “I think I feel the same way,” he added, trying to sound reassuring. That instantly sounded wrong too. Roger looked up at him, and his expression made Brian’s stomach do a little flip. His eyes were so big. Full of wit and flare, but with an ability to become deep and calm like a dark lake. He was sort of dainty in a way, but also sharp and rough around the edges. And now he looked at him like he knew what he was thinking again. Brian had figured out that unreadable expression he could do, and that was it. Like he saw through him. It was intimate, no matter how far apart they were, or little they were saying. They weren’t saying anything now either, and it was torture. 

He wracked his brain for something to bring up. “Here’s something spontaneous,” he began with a sly tone. The transfixion broke. “When we first met, your friend, uh… John opened the door.” Roger looked a bit stumped.  
“So?”  
“He knew my name, which was kind of weird,” Brian continued. He remembered how Freddie mentioned that he had “come up” in his and Roger’s conversation and wondered if that had happened with other people as well. It made him a bit fluttery. Although he didn’t like that he knew, Brian knew he liked Roger, and was it really too much to hope he might feel the same way? Probably. Absolutely.  
“It says on your door,” Roger shrugged.  
“Oh yeah,” Brian sighed. Maybe Roger hadn’t thought about Brian as much as Brian thought about Roger. Obviously he had talked about him enough for it to make Chrissie realize what was going on, but it seemed he was alone with that.  
“You didn’t know that?” Roger grinned. “You are pretty oblivious, aren’t you?” Brian frowned.  
“Freddie say that?” he hummed, more amused than offended.  
“Chrissie, actually,” Roger sighed. Brian looked at him for an explanation. “We met in the stairs a couple of times. Once right after…you had broken up.” Brian furrowed his eyebrows. It had seemed earlier like he had no idea. Maybe he didn’t want to make it weird, but at the same time the first thing he’d asked when they met at Freddies earlier was if he shouldn’t be there with her. Knowing well why he wouldn’t be. Brian realized he could get pissy about it, but decided to let it go. “She was pretty mad. Didn’t paint a beautiful picture, exactly.”

Brian suddenly remembered what they had been arguing about, and realized she may have revealed something about it to Roger. That would be devastating. No one could know about that, except Freddie(not that Brian had told him, but it seemed he had already figured it out). Roger didn’t look knowing, but it was impossible to figure out. Especially since Brian was now imagining the worst, that she had told him he was not only gay, according to her, but liked Roger. He had barely admitted it to himself, no one else could know.  
“What did she say?” he asked unsurely. Roger looked at him in surprise, as if asking if he really wanted to know. Brian expected him to reveal it all, his heart beginning to pound a little. But then eventually Roger just shrugged and said:  
“Doesn’t really matter.”  
Didn’t it? Brian tried very hard to read on Roger if he knew anything private, but he didn’t look like he was hiding anything. Maybe Chrissie had actually just said unimportant things.  
“Not to change the subject, but totally to change the subject… if we’re going to be flatmates, this apartment or mine?” Roger then asked, standing up from the kitchen chair. Brian assumed he wanted to look around a bit.  
“Mine,” he answered instantly. Roger grunted and headed out into the living room. Brian very much realized he hadn’t cleaned up.  
“You haven’t even been to my flat!” he argued. That was true, but still.  
“No, but considering you just moved there a few months ago, you’re a student and it honestly mostly seems like you spend your money on booze,” Brian said with a joking tone, but earned a glare, “so I think it’s easier. And maybe cleaner.”  
“Stop bullying me, my flat is fantastic!” Roger exclaimed, but then he looked like he thought about it as he picked up a glass of scotch from the living room table and sniffed it. Brian couldn’t bother to be embarrassed. “Actually, you’re right. I should move in here. I don’t have a lot of furniture.”  
Brian laughed. “Why no furniture?” Roger was quiet for a little bit.  
“Spent money on booze.”  
“It’s decided, then,” Brian nodded.  
“Actually that might be good, then Deaky can get my flat,” Roger lit up.  
“Who?”  
“Deaky. John Deacon, you know, the guy who read your name on your door?” Roger smirked.  
“Ah,” Brian responded with little interest. They’d all share the same complex. Fun. “That’s my bedroom,” he added as Roger pointed at a door.  
“Yeah, where am I supposed to sleep, exactly?” he asked, looking around.  
“Oh, that. There’s a room to the right of the front door. I just use it as storage now, really,” Brian explained and lead the way. 

The room was a bit shut-in at the moment, as the window was closed and the curtains closed. An old piano covered one corner of the room, and Brian’s old red guitar stood next to it along with an amplifier. Those two objects had been the first in the flat, even before the bed. Then there was a bookshelf filled to the brim, and a few more things with no particular purpose.  
“Nice guitar,” Roger commented when he joined Brian in the doorway to the room. Their shoulders were touching, but Roger didn’t seem to notice. Brian noticed very much.  
“Thanks, I built it,” he answered, walking in before the electricity from the touch drove him mad.  
“You what?” Roger gasped.  
“With my dad,” Brian added, instantly feeling a bit like he had bragged. He played guitar quite often in here, but he had his acoustic in the bedroom and that was more accessible so he often ended up playing that instead. The last time he’d played electric, he realized afterwards that he had left the front door open. Luckily he hadn’t played hard rock with it distorted. It had just been some soft playing around. Roger looked impressed still, but then cleared his throat and looked away.  
“The piano?” Roger continued, brushing the guitar’s head with his hand, tapping the tuners softly.  
“Chrissie’s,” Brian sighed, and was surprised to hear Roger say it unison.  
“Just remembered. She mentioned not being able to get it out of here when I met her. Something about it being to cold and humid outside, it would get ruined,” Roger explained, pressing his fingers down on the keys in a major chord.  
“Yeah. We can move it out later,” Brian decided.  
“No, I don’t mind,” Roger shrugged. Brian realized it may have sounded like he thought Roger would be bothered by it being Chrissie’s. He had kind of hoped he would be.  
“It’s either that or the bookshelf. To make room for a bed, I mean. And the piano is easier I’m pretty sure,” said Brian quickly. Roger didn’t answer, just looked around a bit more among the books and things, absentmindedly sipping his tea, which had likely gone cool now. Then he nodded.  
“Yeah, makes sense.”

The blinds were closed in the window and it made the room look gloomier and lonelier than it had to be. Some dust had gathered on the shelves too, so really, the room needed a bit of new life. Brian walked past Roger to the window and lifted up the blinds. He thought it would be dark outside, but the city painted the heavy clouds orange from below, and a thin sheet of white was covering the ground. It had been raining the last few days, but now snowflakes the size of ping-pong balls were falling with a certain determination toward the ground. Brian got a bit entranced, but for once he didn’t care too much.  
“Why are you smiling like that?” Roger asked, coming over to stand next to him to look out the window as well. “Oh.” 

Then it was quiet. The strange, orange citylight filled the room and Brian thought of how in that moment, everyone were sitting at home with their families, children playing with their new presents and eating Christmas-related sweets, adults drinking and talking about what a wonderful time it was. His own, too. What a weird Christmas it had been so far. He and Chrissie had decorated a little, but the tree hadn’t been finished before they began fighting, and now it was just standing around in the living room. Brian wondered if Roger’s family missed him. Even more he wondered if he missed them. He had a feeling Roger hadn’t quite told him everything about what had happened, people dropped out of school sometimes, that just happens. But he didn’t want to ask. He just glanced at him sometimes, silently asking what he was thinking about. Probably something along the same lines as myself, he figured and sighed deeply. Roger shifted his weight and looked down suddenly, clearing his throat. Maybe he’d noticed Brian had been gazing at him and gotten uncomfortable. Brian mentally punched himself in the face.  
“Brian-” Roger began, not still not looking up. Brian prepared himself. ‘I can tell you like me, so we can’t live together’, ‘Please stop undressing me in your brain’. But he didn’t say any of those things. He just looked up and eventually smiled a little. “Thanks for letting me stay here. I’m gonna go home and start packing stuff together.” He was already moving toward the door.  
“Oh, uh, yeah! Of course, yeah. No problem. I’m, um, looking forward to it,” Brian stammered, scratching his head awkwardly. Roger laughed at him.  
“Sure, man. See you.” It lingered a little bit, their goodbye. They had eye contact, and Brian realized he could keep it that way if he just didn’t answer for a second, so he waited before saying goodbye and letting Roger go up to his old flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of chapter seven! Hope you enjoyed it!:-D
> 
> I'm confusing myself a little bit because I'm rewriting a lot of little scenes so I hope the plot's still clear. I'm constantly changing who knows what so my brain's a bit scrambled about it! All I know is that Freddie and Mary know that Brian likes Roger, and that Roger likes Brian. 
> 
> I'm also a bit conflicted what I want this story to become. I feel like it doesn't have a clear goal right now, but I've been thinking about making it a bit more closer to canon with them starting the band?? Would that be a thing??


	8. "Twice The Chaos!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie, Mary, Roger and Brian help moving in. Some music is made, and some coffee is drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really a lot to say about this one, so more notes below!:-) You may have noticed I renamed the chapters to things someone says in each of them that I think fits the entire chapter well. I kind of like it, tell me what you think if you want! :-D

It hadn’t taken too long to decide things with the landlord. Much shorter than Roger thought it would take. It was December 27th, and it was honestly a relief that Christmas was over. The new year couldn’t come soon enough, 1970 had been a long, exhausting, shit year. And it was going out with a bang. 

Literally, Roger had dropped multiple heavy things in the stairwell. His alarm clock, for example, and the little springs and tiny cogs were decorating the stone steps now. Not that it really mattered, he didn’t have any times to keep now that he wasn’t studying anymore. Of course he’d get a job eventually, but for now he didn’t really want to. Brian’s parents were supporting him a bit, and he also had money from his grants. So it was fine, really. 

He had been carrying boxes of his stuff down all morning while Brian was clearing out his new room. Freddie and Mary had offered to help throw stuff out of Roger’s flat onto the trailer outside, that would take it wherever it is where used up furniture goes. He felt no remorse for his things, the couch that had been there when he moved in for example had been a bit suspicious. He had a whole lot of glasses that he liked, and the green velvet armchair that he got from home. No curtains, no decor except for his old model cars and a pair of drumsticks signed by Charlie Watts. All he needed to bring down really were those things, his clothes, his bed and his alcohol. He thought it would feel weirder, trading all his things for Brian’s, trying to fit his life into an apartment that already had a life in it. But at the same time Brian had been right, Chrissie had left a sort of emptiness to the flat, even though he hadn’t been there while they were together. He could feel it, in a way. A way that made him confident he could fill the emptiness. A way that made him want to. 

The door to the new flat was open, and Brian and Freddie were pushing the piano out into the living room. It looked extremely impractical. Roger left the box of clothes in the new room and decided to look at them struggle.  
“Don’t stand around, help us get it over the threshold!” Brian growled at him.  
“You’re doing fine. Come on, ladies, push!” Roger mocked back, leaning against the doorframe of his new room. Brian glared at him and lifted. Eventually the piano was in place against the wall furthest away from the balcony door. Freddie had advised it, saying it was bad for the piano to be anywhere drafty. Roger had not only commented on the fuzziness of pianos, but also how it hardly mattered since he smoked and would be standing in that balcony door every other hour anyway. Sadly it was a french balcony, so no cool beers would be drunk on any warm August evenings, and no pancake breakfasts in the spring when the sun started getting warm again either. Not that he had been fantasizing about it.  
“Why don’t you play something, Freddie?” Mary asked as she also appeared in the doorway to the apartment.  
“Like what?” Freddie asked absentmindedly. Roger found himself looking to Brian, who was smiling softly at his friend. It reminded Roger once more that he played guitar, and though it had been a while since he drummed, he used to when he lived with his parents. Ironic, really. Freddie began playing, and not so humbly either. He was swift and bold about it, using what seemed like all keys. It wasn’t even a real song, or nothing that Roger could recognize, but that made it all the more entrancing.  
“He’s really good,” Roger commented at Brian as he walked into the kitchen, tailing him quickly.  
“Yeah, I know. He’s a good singer, too. It’s a surprise you haven’t heard it yet - when he gets going, it doesn’t end,” Brian explained, preparing the coffee machine with practiced movements. Roger hummed, watching him softly to the tones of the piano. It had been snowing non-stop since Christmas Eve, temperature sinking steadily and the trees and benches of London becoming coated in white. Roger felt strangely at peace.  
“Are you making coffee, Brian?” Freddie suddenly called out.  
“Yeah, for everyone, don’t worry!” Brian answered, looking like he realized suddenly that Roger was there with him.  
“No! Get the guitar!” Freddie responded, and Roger felt his heart jump a little. Please, he thought so suddenly that he was close to saying it out loud. 

After moment’s hesitation and a sigh, Brian followed the order and disappeared into his bedroom. Roger and Mary gathered to the living room as well, sitting on the armrest of the couch or on it properly. Brian came out of the second door to his bedroom with an acoustic guitar. It was dark brown wood with a shimmering cream pickguard, and Roger realized it matched Brian’s clothes; dark brown manchester trousers and a cream white button down. He tuned it quickly as Freddie seemed to settle into an actual song. When Roger heard what it was, he couldn’t help but laugh.  
“Looking out on the morning rain, I used to feel so uninspired,” Freddie sang, and instantly Roger quieted down. His voice was booming and authoritarian, but he sang softly and emotionally somehow. Brian didn’t seem to mind his choice of song, and followed along the chords with a picking pattern he made up on the spot. Freddie played less, and less hard, to make room for it. It was fascinating really, it was like they were communicating as they played. Roger watched Brian, because now he was so focused that he probably wouldn’t notice. His hair was swaying a bit as he moved discreetly to the beat of the song, and his brows were furrowed. Sometimes he lit up a little when he and Freddie coordinated well. That was almost painful to see; that little smile and the little spark in his eye. The way his shirt moved on his arms and chest when he did. Brian was very skinny, and considering his height it seemed natural he’d be uncoordinated and clumsy, but he was graceful. Beautiful. Roger felt like he was doing something illegal by staring for this long. He needed to tear away from it before he did or said something stupid.  
“How long have they known each other?” he asked Mary as they reached the bridge.  
“A year or two,” she answered. Roger hummed. “Freddie’s a lot more shy than he seems, but he’s a strong personality. It doesn’t take long to become close with him,” she explained.  
“I’ve noticed,” Roger agreed. He had thought about that a lot, how these three were already good friends to him, despite him not knowing the second thing about them, really.  
“‘Cause you make me feel like a natural woman,” Freddie belted. Roger laughed again, even though he was very impressed. Brian strummed the chords and rang them out, then back to the rhythm. The music filled the room from floor to ceiling. Roger would have felt out of place if it weren’t for Mary also being there. They both applauded humorously when Freddie and Brian finished their song, both of them laughing and Freddie bowing deeply. Then he turned around and kept playing something else, conversing excitedly with Brian. 

Roger decided to go get the coffee and Mary stringed along. He had a good feeling. If this was going to be an everyday activity, this might become the best year of his life. Just little things like that felt more meaningful and fun than what he’d been doing, or occupying himself with, for the last five years of his life. He was only 21, but he had hoped he would’ve found some purpose by now.  
“Do you play any instruments, Rog?” Mary asked, taking a mug from Brian’s cupboard. All his mugs were different from one another. Now some of Roger’s were there as well, so he got one of his own.  
“Not really. Or well, I guess. I used to,” he answered vaguely, busy pouring.  
“Like what?” she pressed, though kindly, and reached out her mug.  
“I know a little guitar I suppose. But I played drums a lot when I lived at home. Since I was a little kid, pretty much,” Roger shrugged and tried to take a sip but burned his lips. He swallowed a string of swears.  
“That’s cool. The three of you are pretty much a whole band,” Mary smiled. Roger chuckled at her.  
“Sure. Actually Deaky, you know John, is a really good bassist.”  
“Really?” Mary seemed happy. “Though as I’ve understood it from Freddie, he’s tried to open the idea, but Brian doesn’t want to,” she then sighed, sounding like she was truly sad about it. Roger, to his own surprise, felt sad about it too.  
“That’s dull of him,” he commented. Mary rolled her eyes. Then it was quiet for a second.  
“You like him, don’t you?” she asked. Not like she was just figuring it out or trying to press it out of him, but more like she just wanted him to admit it to himself. Roger felt himself shift on his feet, but tried not to look uncomfortable. He was failing, looking at his feet and heating up. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”  
“It’s okay,” he instantly reassured. It was okay. Mary looked like she wanted to say something, but decided not to. Roger tapped his finger on the coffee mug for a second, thinking it over.

Of course he did. What else? He’d gotten madly pissed off when that wanker Paul mentioned it, or rather attacked him with it, but he’d be an idiot not to like Brian. He was grumpy and uptight, which Roger had always considered terrible traits. But he was kind. And smart. Devilishly handsome. He’d liked Brian for some time, ever since he heard him play guitar for the first time, even though he had no idea what he looked like then. He had just moved in, but after that they started passing each other in the stairs and things. He couldn’t look at him, not speak to him or even hold the door open because he was so struck. He’d known since he was a teenager that he was gay, but wanking off to magazines and the memories of locker rooms in the middle of the night and living in shame and denial for the rest of the day’s hours was different from being constantly around men in the city where things were a bit more loose, so far away from his family and his past life and everything that had contained him. So developing a crush on his neighbour was, albeit absolutely terrifying and confusing, very exciting and freeing at the same time. Then Freddie came into his life one night. Though he couldn’t remember a lot, a few patches here and there were clear. Like Freddie telling him he was gorgeous, repeatedly. Roger had gotten so bashful and oddly turned on that he almost kissed him. But he didn’t, which was very fortunate considering they had in no way been out of sight. And it probably would have messed up their new friendship.  
“Roger? You with me?” Mary suddenly interrupted his derailing train of thought.  
“Hm? Yeah. I do,” he answered, strangely confident about it.  
“Oh, you two are getting married? Lovely!” Freddie joked as he appeared in the kitchen. Roger chuckled and hit him in the arm. Brian was close behind him, and Roger looked at him for a lot longer than he meant to. Their eyes met, and something strange happened. Neither of them looked away. There was a tranquility in the room, in the whole building, Roger felt like. A peace that made everything okay, even having long, lingering moments with your new roommate. That thought started a little fire in Roger’s stomach. They’d live together from now on. He couldn’t fuck this up now, so he looked away.

They had coffee over an ecstatic conversation. It almost seemed like Freddie was more excited about them moving in together than they were, but Roger knew he was just good at hiding it. Maybe Brian was too. He hoped so.  
“Oh! You’re going to have a housewarming party!” Freddie chimed. Brian laughed. It was like music.  
“I’ve lived here for three years. I can’t have a housewarming party,” he reasoned. Freddie gave him a deathglare.  
“But it’s new for Roger, and therefore it’s authorized. New years at mine and Mary’s, and then a housewarming party the weekend after,” Freddie planned out loud.  
“That sounds wicked, Fred. I’m in,” Roger grinned. Freddie seemed pleased.  
“You’ll be barely free of your first hangover before you begin your next, you know,” Mary argued, though not passionately.  
“Why don’t we do them in the same one?” Brian suggested. At first Freddie looked frustrated with him, like he didn’t know what fun was, but then he beamed.  
“Twice the chaos!” he agreed. “We can use both flats. Double story party, I can see it.”  
“Never. I will not be a part of pestering my neighbours the way they’ve pestered me,” Brian then sighed and looked knowingly at Roger, who stuck his tongue out.  
“Come on, Brian. It’ll be fun, I swear. I’ll teach you how to party for real,” Roger laughed, hitting Brian in the arm, which was crossed over the other as he held his coffee mug thoughtfully to his lips. Everyone waited in anticipation.  
“Fine.”  
“Fuck yeah,” Freddie whispered delightfully.  
“We can sort this out later. You have to go to work soon, Freddie. And Brian and Roger should finish up in here. You still have to move down the bed,” Mary sorted out. Oh yeah, the bed, Roger thought. He hadn’t thought of the fact that this would actually be the first night here. Brian seemed to realize the same thing. He looked a bit spooked, honestly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Another kind of long one. 
> 
> I was going to write the first night in the apartment as well, like just Roger's thoughts and saying goodnight, but I couldn't be bothered to make a timeskip. So either I make a tiny little chapter later or you'll just have to trust my word that it's cute. 
> 
> It won't be long until Maylor is made, believe me. Knowing me though it'll be a bumpy ride. Thanks for reading babes! Next chapter is the housewarming party I think!


	9. ”I Guess It’s Destiny, Then.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Years Housewarming Party! Roger and Brian are respectively building up the courage to talk to one another, but like always, something comes in the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies!
> 
> This chapter is probably my favourite I’ve written so far, not gonna lie. But it’s a mess lol and I’ve split the perspective a whole bunch so maybe don’t read it if you’re very tired! 
> 
> I also don't have a whole of experience of being drunk, so I wrote this kind of the way I've felt, but to be honest it's bit of a mess. It gets really dramatic!! And if you're uncomfortable reading/thinking about drunk people, approach with caution!<3
> 
> Happy reading!

“You’re...gay,” John processed slowly, looking at Roger with a lot of confusion and doubt.  
“Is that surprising?” Roger chuckled, taking a nervous swing of his beer. They were in no way in private, the room bustling with people and music already. It was December 31st. The last couple of hours of 1970 were ahead of them, and it was going to be the wildest housewarming-new years party ever. Roger was trying to start the new year in an honest way.  
“Kind of. Not really,” John answered, taking an equally nervous sip of his. They were both a little bit tipsy, but not too badly yet. It was only eleven or so. Roger paused for a second and looked at John, trying to get eye contact.  
“Do you mind? That I am,” he asked slowly. “I wanted you to know because I want us to be friends. But if you care, I understand.”  
“I don’t, I don’t mind,” John assured, shaking his head quickly. Roger realized instantly he had been a lot more worried about what he would say than he thought, as he felt a heavy weight lift from his shoulders.  
“Really?” he couldn’t help but question.  
“Really,” John laughed back, punching Roger in the arm.  
“You know, you may be young, and a nerd, but you’re a cool guy, Deaky,” Roger sighed, moving back a little and inviting the rest of the room back into his attention.  
“I’m not that much younger than you. And also, that nickname is stupid,” Deaky informed in a very matter-of-factly tone. 

Roger’s attention had shifted to Freddie, who was coming over, still walking almost-straight. For the first time that night he was alone, no Paul hanging on his arm or Mary trying to hold him back.  
“You two look really depressed, what’s going on?” he cheered, grabbing them both by the shoulder. Roger’s courage was sky high.  
“Just came out to John,” he laughed. Freddie did too. “New year, new me, you know?”  
“You work fast,” he praised. “Took me basically forever.”  
“You too?” John near-gasped. Freddie and Roger laughed at him, and John seemed a bit upset by it, but amused still.  
“Darling, you’re surrounded! Anyway, if you’re feeling confident Roger, I think it’s time you make a move on your new roommate,” Freddie mused, and John looked like finally understood something and was very relieved.  
“Brian? You like him?” he asked curiously at Roger, who instantly felt embarrassed and childish. He nodded a little.  
“A lot. Now, let me find him and put some drinks in him, then things will go smoothly.” Freddie disappeared into the crowd with a determined look before Roger could argue.  
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” John asked a bit unsurely.  
They had just gotten to know each other. Roger had no clue if Brian liked men and he probably didn’t. They had just moved in together, and he was very dependant on that working out. But right now, he was also a bit drunk.  
“What’s the worst that could happen?” he shrugged and took a swing.

… 

“You’re gay? Brian, that’s… nice?” Mary sounded a bit baffled, and Brian just looked at her as she tried to gather something smart to say. He shrugged.  
“Is it?” he questioned and took a casual sip of his drink. She clearly wasn’t sure what to make of it, but that was understandable. He had just been in a relationship with a woman a few weeks ago.  
“I mean, I suppose I’m not that surprised, but it seems you’ve come to terms with it quite fast,” she considered, looking around the room a little. They were standing against the wall of his living room. They had decided to split the party into Freddie’s and Brian’s apartments. It was a little bit calmer in Brian’s, but people were moving back and forth across the hall.  
“I haven’t really,” Brian answered and looked at her. “Which is why I’m telling you and not Freddie or anyone else. Because then everyone would know by the end of the night. I love Freddie, but he’s not exactly a good secretkeeper when he’s drunk.” Mary nodded and smiled a little at this.  
“That’s true. But what, then? You’re sure you’re not bisexual or anything?” she asked. Of course he could be, but he still felt a little bit offended. Like he wouldn’t know? Actually, he wouldn’t know.  
“I don’t think so. I don’t think it’s a matter of meeting the right girl, I was with Chrissie for two years and I met Roger last month and-” Brian cut himself off, realizing he hadn’t completely admitted that yet. Drinking should be illegal, he just ends up saying a bunch of dumb stuff.  
“So you do like him! I knew it,” Mary beamed.  
“And yet you were a bit surprised when I said I’m gay,” Brian questioned. Mary ignored him.  
“That’s lovely, actually. You already live together. This could be good for you,” she concluded, brushing her hand on his arm in support.  
“What, like he’s a good influence? If anything, it’s going to ruin me. You know he’s immature and hot-headed. And it’s not like… we could be together,” Brian sighed. He wished he wasn’t right. A stubborn expression appeared on Mary’s face, which was a great rarity.  
“Who says?”  
“The whole world,” Brian chuckled, a bit hopelessly.  
“Ah, fuck it, then,” she answered with a sip of her beer and a shrug. Brian looked at her in awe. Mary rarely swore, so when she did she meant it. 

Then suddenly, out of the little swarms of people, an unfortunately familiar face appeared. It was Paul, a friend of Freddie’s, who had a whole atmosphere of bad around him. And he had that expression on his face that could fool anyone, like he was about to say something terrible but he totally felt bad about it. Here we go, Brian thought.  
“Mary, Brian,” he greeted, a bit more emphasis on the latter. He got a bit closer and quieted down. “Your girlfriend- uh, ex-girlfriend, is downstairs. I think she wants to talk to you,” he explained quickly and then walked away. Brian furrowed his eyebrows.  
“Chrissie?” Mary questioned. “I wonder why. It’s New Years Eve, for goodness’ sakes.”  
“I should go talk to her, then. See you around, Mary. And- well, you know,” Brian stammered.  
“I’ll keep everything you said to myself,” she promised with a warm smile. It’s not too surprising I’m gay, otherwise I’d be in love with you, Brian thought humorously and exited the scene. 

Luckily for people wanting to shoot fireworks, in was clear in the sky. But cold as Dante’s Inferno. Brian tried to sound cheerful as he greeted some acquaintances in the stairwell, the smell of cigarette smoke becoming numbingly strong until he was out the door. Indeed, out in the thin layer of snow, Chrissie was standing with her arms wrapped around herself in the cold. Her hair was in a low ponytail, which it never used to be as she’d usually have it loose. Her face was red with cold, and probably embarrassment.  
“Hi,” he said softly.  
“Hey, Brian,” she answered. He had expected himself to be annoyed, but he couldn’t find the feeling.  
“What are you doing here? It’s New Years Eve,” he pointed out like it wasn’t clear to her.  
“I know,” she answered and Brian felt a little stupid. “I came to apologize. For everything.” At this point Brian already felt a bit tired of it. He didn't want to think about this right now, their relationship, what went wrong. He just wanted to keep moving on, it had honestly been going really well so far. “I’m sorry that I- that I acted so crazy by the end. I’m honestly not sure what took over me. I guess I was just frustrated with you, and afraid.” She was tearing up. Brian started to get cold, crossing his arms as well. “I think the reason I accused you of being...of being gay, is because I was afraid it was my fault that you didn’t love me. I wanted it to be your fault. But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you, Brian.” She was trying to sound sympathetic, and in another life Brian would have already wrapped her up in his arms and told her it was all fine, but now he felt a bit angry.  
“There is nothing wrong with me,” he agreed. Up until that point, he hadn’t thought so, but now he did. Maybe just out of spite. Just because she was telling him the opposite by her choice of words.  
“No. I’m sorry for saying that about you. And I hope we can move past it,” she sighed, probably feeling really good about herself, Brian thought. He hadn’t gotten a proper chance to be angry with her until now.  
“You were right, though. I do like men. I never loved you.” As he said it, Brian realized immediately how horrible he was being. What a God awful thing to say. The anger that had been rising slowly in him died and sunk into the ground, and in its place came shame. “I’m sorry,” he apologized quickly as tears ran down her face.  
“No, don’t apologize. That’s the truth. It’s a good thing you said it,” she mumbled, drying her tears with her sleeve. “I was hoping you would say that, actually.” Now she was laughing a little bit. Brian couldn’t believe it, so he laughed along quietly. They stood like that for a little while, just looking at the snow on the ground and listening to the party upstairs.  
“Is that in our- in your flat?” Chrissie questioned suddenly. Brian sighed, but smiled.  
“Yeah, it is. Who am I, you know?” he joked. She shook her head in disbelief. “Actually, you won’t believe this, but Roger’s moved in with me.”  
“What?” She looked properly shocked.  
“I know. It’s a very, very long story, but we both sort of needed some support,” he shrugged.  
“I guess it’s destiny, then,” Chrissie concluded. Brian didn’t answer, but thought about it, looking up into the window of his apartment. Maybe it is, he thought. Maybe it’s meant to be. “Just go to him, will you?” Chrissie suggested, and with that turned around to leave. Brian’s heart caught in his throat and he couldn’t answer, thinking it over for only a second before agreeing silently.

… 

How romantic, Roger thought, leaning against the window frame. It was only slightly open to let out his cigarette smoke, but otherwise it was far too cold outside to have windows open. Although the heat was steadily rising, and soon enough the windows would probably be fogged over. Roger didn’t care right now. John said something beside him, but he couldn’t make it out.  
“Huh?” he asked eventually, long after his friend had finished. He managed to tear his eyes away from Brian and look at him.  
“That doesn’t have to mean anything,” John tried, fumbling with his words a little bit. He was a lightweight, no question there.  
“Look at them. They’re laughing. Ugh, God…” Roger groaned, butting his cigarette on the windowsill and rubbing his eyes too hard with his fingers. Was he that drunk? That he was about to cry about it? He knew he was kind of an emotional drunk, but it usually went in the emotion of happiness. Now he was getting angry, pretty quickly at that. “What if they get back together? It hasn’t been that long. That could happen,” he reasoned with John, who was trying his best to listen. “Then he’ll kick me out.”  
“You...don’t know that,” John answered, but Roger didn’t listen. Or rather, he heard it, but couldn’t register fast enough to answer. All of a sudden it was like he wasn’t just drunk anymore, but rather sober, sitting in his brain and watching himself say and do stupid, drunk things. He wanted to get out of there.  
“I thought- I’m an idiot! I’m an idiot,” he exclaimed, turning around from the window and searching the crowd in the kitchen for Freddie. He had to tell him to stop whatever he was doing. It was pointless anyway. Everything was going to shit anyway. John didn’t answer. Or maybe he did. “I thought he liked me. But that was stupid, fucking- God.” Then he just mumbled some other swears and felt his eyes water up. Why are we crying about this? That doesn’t make any sense, asked sober brain-Roger. Mind your own fucking business, answered drunk body-Roger and left the kitchen with stumbling steps. 

Freddie was talking to a whole crowd of people, being entertaining and wonderful as usual. Roger had to stand for a second, trying to get a grip of the situation. He didn’t realize he was staring until Freddie had spotted him. His beautiful, laughing face turned to one of confusion. Roger realized his cheeks were a little wet and quickly dried them on his sleeves. Right, short sleeves. Now his wrists were wet too. Great. Freddie separated himself from his group and came over, steering Roger away from the crowd and into a more secluded corner. People were too busy to notice them, Roger hoped.  
“What?” Freddie asked, apparently not quite sober enough to form a whole sentence. Roger considered not telling him anything as he looked at him. He tried to look him in the eyes, but there was too much else to see. He was shiny, his eyes were dark with smudged eyeshadow and his mouth was very red. Had he been kissing someone, Roger wondered. The thought didn’t help him snap back to reality, but rather made his body become hot. A panicky sort of hot. He had to bite his lip to stop himself, but Freddie seemed to get the wrong idea about it, and moved forward to close the distance. Their mouths met hungrily, but it took a long while for Roger to realize what was going on. Everyone around them were suddenly yelling and cheering, but for some reason Roger couldn’t react. First he became stiff and cold, but then he sort of crashed into the motion like a ship into a cliff, kissing him back with uncoordinated and undirected passion. Before long it became too much, and he had to tear himself away. It felt like waking up. He wasn’t sure what his body was doing, but looking down at his hands, he realized they were shaking. He couldn’t speak.  
“Roger- I’m sorry,” Freddie apologized. Roger looked at him, and he did look genuinely shocked with himself. He also realized anew that the room was full of people, so he looked around quickly. No one was looking. Well, except for one person. Brian, of course. He lingered for only a second in the sea of people, on the other side of the room which went silent in Roger’s head. Then he disappeared. People were bumping into him and saying things to him, they were all smiling and laughing and bringing their glasses up and together. It was 1971, apparently.

… 

“Happy new year!” The chorus of people in his apartment, and probably all of London, all of England, roared together in unison. Brian hadn’t been prepared for neither the new year or the view across the room. Freddie and Roger, completely enraptured with one another. A shiver ran through Brian’s spine as Roger suddenly turned and looked at him. He couldn’t handle it.

What the actual hell was going on? Life was always being a bit of a bitch to Brian, but this was a new level of bitchery. He didn’t even know where to begin, even in his thoughts, so he ran away. Two people, a man and a woman for once, were making out on his bed in very little clothing. He didn’t care, growling at them to get out. They didn’t argue, probably taken over with embarrassment, pulled on some pants and left his room and he shut the door behind them. He had drunk way too much to be able to think this through, which is why he’d always avoided getting trashed, because he was too dependent on thinking straight.  
“What?” he asked himself quietly, twisting around his room. “What the hell?”

It was frustrating. That was the main point. Not only was the person he liked kissing someone else, but the person he liked was a man. And he was kissing a man, which meant he liked men, just not Brian. And as a cherry on top, he’d just told his ex that things were going gayly(literally) and then things had gone and turned the complete opposite direction. Minutes ago he had had hope. He’d felt like things were meant to be. What a dumb, drunk thought. Now he felt like he’d gotten close to something but still missed by a longshot. It felt like the end of the world. Had he been able to think rationally he would’ve realized it wasn’t the end of the world, but right now, the world was ending. Brian sat down on his bed and drew his hands through his hair multiple times. Was this how 1971 was going to be? Just him messing things up for himself and getting disappointed? Wonderful, bloody brilliant. How was he going to live with this, and live with Roger at that?  
“Oh God,” he groaned when he realized once more what had just happened. He was sobering up a little, and his sense of consequence came back to him. He’d made things weird. Had he just ignored it and left it, maybe gone over and wished them a happy new year, everything might even be fine right now. So what, if they wanted to be together? Then another thought struck Brian; Freddie had sort of known he liked Roger. Sure, he had never explicitly said it, but damn it, Freddie _knew_. Was he a dick? They’d been friends for years, wouldn’t he have known if his best friend was an absolute wanker? Maybe he was just as oblivious as people told him. He remembered when Roger had said that about his namesign on the door, and that’s when he began to truly lose it. 

Thoughts spiraling, he didn’t hear the knock on the door the first two times. After the third one, the door opened anyway. He just watched angrily as the person stepped inside and closed it behind him quietly. In the second of it being open, the sound of music and people had streamed in like a faucet, and then closed off and become distant again. The person was fumbling as he turned around; it was Roger. He looked pretty destroyed. Something woke up in Brian, his fucking sympathy or something, and he pushed it down.  
“Can I be here with you?” he asked with a very raspy, quiet voice. Brian just nodded quickly and tried not to bitterly look away. He had to pretend he wasn’t hurt, because really, why would he be? In just a few hours he’d gotten his hopes up way too high. That was his own fault. Roger seemed to come down from some sort of fit, of ecstacy or terror was unclear. Either way, tears started streaming down his face as he leaned back against the door. That’s when Brian realized something was probably wrong.  
“Hey, Rog, what’s- what’s going on?” he asked, trying to sound sterner than he was feeling.  
“God damn it, fuck-!” Roger swore quietly, instantly beginning to dry his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He was slurring and couldn’t quite keep his balance, still drunk, clearly. And not in a fun, dancey, happy way. In a chaotic, really-wanting-to-sober-up kind of way.  
“It’s fine, Roger. It’s okay,” Brian tried, having no idea what to do. “Come sit.” What? Okay. Roger did as suggested, shaking as he sat down next to Brian, still crying and furiously trying to stop. What the hell was going on with him, Brian wondered. He was usually so cool and laid back, right?  
“Did- did something happen?” he asked. He knew what had happened. But maybe Roger needed to talk about it. Not that Brian wanted to talk about it, that was the last thing he wanted to talk about right now.  
“I’m-” Roger interrupted himself with a sigh, a very wobbly one. Brian finally gave up to himself and decided to be sympathetic, though he didn’t want to. He tried to remember what he’d usually do when Chrissie was crying about something and looked at Roger’s hands that were gripped together tightly, pressing his nails into his own skin. He should take it, but that felt very strange. They were men, for God’s sake. “I’m gay, Brian,” Roger sniffed, seeming like he was calming down a little bit finally. Brian realized he had had a stone in his stomach only when it seemed to disappear, and a knot of worry took its place.  
“Oh,” was all he could say. By now that wasn’t exactly a shock, but Brian still felt a little shiver.  
“And it’s- it’s ruining my life, man. I don’t want to be. I thought I’d get over it, or that I could just accept it and start living like that. But I don’t know, it’s so fast now, everything’s gone to shit really fast since I told my family. I got- fucking punched in the face. My dad hit me in the face-” Roger cut himself off again, rubbing his face with his hands, looking and sounding like a hurricane stuffed into a little body. Brian started feeling really bad, like he wanted Roger to stop talking because he was clearly not totally aware of what he was saying, stumbling and hiccuping and not meeting Brian’s eyes. Brian realized he had probably held onto a lot of shit for a long time, and he was uncomfortable being his wall for it since they weren’t very close, but what choice did he have? Brian asked himself whether Roger should trust him, and came to the conclusion that at least he could. Maybe there weren’t that many people like that in Roger’s life right now, which was why he was rambling on to him. Brian felt good about getting his normal, reasonable thinking back again, and decided with it to just hold Roger’s hand. It was cold and sweaty. They both fell silent for a second, looking at their little embrace.  
“I’m sorry,” Brian apologized.  
“It’s okay,” Roger said, brushing his thumb over Brian’s and sniffed up some snot.  
“No I mean-” Brian couldn’t help but laugh at Roger’s misunderstanding. “I mean about your family. And that everything is going to shit. That seems to be a trend right now,” he explained with a sigh. Roger looked up at him.  
“What do you mean?” he asked quietly. Brian thought it over. Should he really tell Roger about his own sexuality-related drabbles right now, he wondered. Maybe in some way it could relax him, but for Brian it would just make things worse. So he decided not to.  
“Nevermind,” he shrugged. Roger accepted it and closed his eyes, leaning his head against Brian’s shoulder. 

“You saw earlier, right?” Roger whispered, sounding like he’d choked up a little again. Brian thought about lying to ease his mind, but then he remembered they’d gotten eye contact and it was pretty clear he knew.  
“Yeah, I did,” he answered, trying not to sound biased. Roger cleared his throat.  
“I thought I’d enjoy that more. But I wasn’t ready, I think,” he admitted. Brian got surprised; that was an extremely vulnerable thing to say.  
“ _Freddie_ kissed _you_ , you mean?” Brian asked to be sure. That could be a good thing. Well, not for Freddie and Brian’s friendship. But for Brian and Roger’s.  
“Yeah, he did. I mean I guess I...thought that I wanted him to. But I didn’t, Brian, I promise. I’m sorry,” Roger hurried, looking up at Brian with a slightly frightened expression. Somehow he felt better, getting an apology. But at the same time he knew he didn’t exactly deserve one.  
“No, no, that’s okay. It’s okay if you...want him to, I mean.” How the hell does one say that in a normal way? Brian felt himself blush a little, but fortunately Roger had gone back to resting his heavy head on Brian’s shoulder. They were quiet for a long time, and gradually Brian felt Roger relax more and more. He was probably exhausted. 

“Do you still want to live with me?” he asked quietly after a minute or two. Brian snorted.  
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked. Well, except for the fact that you kissed my best friend and I think I’m falling in love with you a little bit, Brian thought to himself with a bit of humor to it.  
“Because I’m- that,” Roger yawned, still softly brushing his thumb on Brian’s hand. Was that weird? Was that some sort of sign that he liked him, or was he just not aware of it? Brian decided not to think about that right now, because it just wasn’t that important.  
“No, I don’t mind, Roger,” Brian reassured. He hesitated before continuing; “I mean, so am I.” 

But Roger’s little thumb movements had already stopped. Brian looked down at his face and saw that he was quite clearly asleep. He sighed. Maybe that was for the best, he figured. His nimble fingers brushed some of the messy, sweaty hair out of Roger’s face and back behind his ears. Fucking hell, he was beautiful, wasn’t he? Seeing those eyes up close was unreal. They were so big and so deep, even when he was sleeping and they were closed. It was like shutting the door on the night sky, on an ocean, on the whole universe. Brian sat like that and admired him for only a few minutes before carefully laying him down on his bed. It was dark in the room apart from the occasional flashes of firework lights. He’d forgotten about all that for a second. The new year hadn’t existed for a little while. What a feeling. Now he had to snap back to reality, find Freddie to give him a proper reality check.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooo what did you think? Do tell me in the comments if you feel like it! I appreciate all your support immensely <3
> 
> Things aren’t going SUPER well for these guys but I think it’ll sort itself out eventually, I believe in them. I also haven’t gotten a chance to throw in Deaky Boy that much yet but trust me I want to!! He'll be around more from now on! 
> 
> Thanks for reading, as always!


	10. "Deaky, I Think I Did Something Stupid."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after the party. Roger is hungover and trying to piece last night together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank y'all for 200 kudos! :-D It really means a lot to me!
> 
> As I mentioned in the last chapter, I don't have a lot of experience being drunk, but I do know that it takes a lot to actually have a black-out and it's pretty unlikely that Roger would actually have one here I think, but for the sake of the story I made it so ;-) Just a small one though!
> 
> This chapter became way, way longer than I thought it would be. I've been reading a bit of other people's stuff again and realized I should probably not have the chapters so long, and also try and break up the text a bit more. I mean that's what I like reading so it only makes sense. 
> 
> I tried, at least the latter thing. 
> 
> Happy reading!

Something was itching. In the face. Roger reached up and scratched his cheek, it ached a little. Right, bruise. Almost healed. Thoughts were moving impossibly slow and were almost painful to conjure. He peered his eyes open, it was like they were glued together. He used his fingers to keep one open, and the room was barely dark enough, even though the blinds were closed. He smelled alcohol, gave his breath a sniff with the help of his palm and sighed. Terrible. He felt terrible. 

The next time he woke up it had gotten even brighter in the room, and the headache he’d been able to ignore earlier was far worse now. It was almost like he could hear light, and it was deafening. Of course he’d been hungover before, but in that moment, it felt like Roger was going to die. His nose was clogged up and his eyes felt very swollen. Had he caught a cold as well, in the midst of things? He looked around for some tissues or anything, but quickly realized this wasn’t his room. It was Brian’s. It was Brian’s desk over there, this was Brian’s bed. Upon the thought he registered the scent of him around him, holding the duvet up to his stuffed nose.  
“Fuck,” he mumbled, trying to remember the context of this. His brain was hurting too much to try and put the memories in place. He didn’t usually have memory losses anymore, and surely it would all come back to him, but it wasn’t easy. The pillowcase was dark gray, and he spotted little white flecks of salt on it from crying. Great, Roger thought. He knew he was an emotional drunk, why did he have to take it that far last night of all nights? 

It took many tries, many self-encouraging thoughts and a lot of rubbing his eyes to make it to a sitting position. The room spun a little, but too much. No, wait, too much. 

Roger hurried up, holding his mouth as he rushed to the bathroom. It was strange orienting himself out of Brian’s room instead of his own, but he made it in time. Falling to his knees, letting it out into the toilet. He had been hungover before, but he never got used to the smell of vomit. At least it was over quick, and he felt a little lighter afterwards. Technically he was a little lighter too. He flushed quickly before the view of it and the smell of it made him be sick again. Breathing heavily and still rubbing his eyes he stood up shakily. Literally shaking, from top to toe. The mirror wasn’t anything he wanted to look in, but he involuntarily ended up in front of it. His eyes were about as swollen as they felt. He was still wearing his jeans and t-shirt from the night before. Skin pale, making his bloodshot eyes stand out. And the bloodshotness made his irises stand out like a cornflower in field of poppies. He smirked at the thought and washed his mouth out properly.

It took a little while for Roger to realize he had neither turned on the lights or closed the door completely behind him when he went in. Embarrassing twice-fold. But if Brian was even home, maybe he was still sleeping.  
“You good in there?” came his voice from outside. No, he was home. And Roger got embarrassed. Brian sounded very tired, but considering he was up, he seemed to be doing a bit better than Roger.  
“No,” Roger answered honestly.  
“You did go pretty far last night. Not that I’m judging you,” Brian responded. His voice was husky and cold, which was unusual. It was usually very warm and smooth. Roger felt his face heat up.  
“I barely remember it,” he said as he exited the bathroom, closing the door behind him this time and leaning back against it. “It’s God damn bright in here.” He couldn’t keep his eyes open.  
“You don’t? Remember, I mean,” Brian asked with a new tone to his voice. Roger peeked at him through his squint and saw that he was looking at him, but not much more against the light of the kitchen window.  
“I do, a little. I don’t have the energy to dig into my brain right now, Bri - do we have coffee at all or are you just going to stand there?” he sighed, pointing vaguely at Brian.  
“We don’t. I’ve sent John to buy some. And breakfast,” Brian explained. “You should drink some water. I’m guessing you have a headache.” The sound of the faucet was the loudest thing Roger had ever heard. At least Brian had been speaking very quietly.  
“I don’t want to eat,” Roger growled with disgust. Brian handed him a glass. Roger opened his eyes again and was taken aback by Brian standing in front of him now. He was tall, though he was slouching, and blocking the window made the whole world seem dark. It was very comfortable, but Roger still felt cornered, breaking a sweat.  
“Pizza,” Brian explained and gave him the glass of water.  
“What’s open now? It’s morning,” Roger reasoned, taking small sips at a time.  
“It’s two in the afternoon,” Brian smiled. A tingling sensation filled Roger’s stomach. Butterflies, was it? When he walked away again, he felt the absence of his body like someone had ripped the duvet off him in the middle of the night. He wanted to go back to bed. 

The flat was a complete and utter fucking mess. Bottles and glasses were everywhere, along with cigarette butts, some popped balloons, a few pairs of heels and multiple other things that Roger figured didn’t belong to Brian. The nautia came back a little, but instead of being sick again Roger went to crash on the couch. A blanket was draped over it.  
“Wait - Did you say John went? Did you call him?” Roger realized out loud. Brian followed him into the living room, rubbing his forehead.  
“No, he slept here. I’m not sure why, but he was there when I woke up,” Brian shrugged. “Apparently he doesn’t have his own place yet, he lives with his parents. And I guess he didn’t want to come home wasted. Though I’m not sure how not coming home at all is any better,” he continued, his words fading out into mumbles as he spoke. Roger fought a little to keep up as he sat down slowly on the couch. His head was still pounding, but the water had made him feel a bit better. It was far from finished, though.  
“He’s just a kid, can’t blame him for worrying about his parents,” Roger sighed and laid back. Brian nodded and came to sit beside him. Roger felt himself start to shake a little bit again. He must be getting sick or something.  
“How old is he?” Brian wondered, scratching his scruffle. He usually kept it pretty neatly shaved. Now he looked a bit older, even if it was just a shadow. Roger fought back the thought of getting beard-burn from kissing him. It was an overpowering thought, however.  
“19,” he answered shortly and tried not to look at him too much. But he just ended up glancing at him nervously every three seconds.  
“That is pretty young. I didn’t realize,” Brian admitted. Then he turned his head and looked at Roger, who actively avoided looking back. It was a long, tormenting moment where he just became more and more aware of Brian’s eyes on him and started sweating furiously again, hoping he wasn’t becoming red as a tomato, but knowing he was.  
“You need to shower,” said Brian eventually. A sense of relief washed over Roger and he snickered, hitting Brian in the arm playfully.  
“Shut up. So do you.” 

Brian went into the shower first, and Roger once more had to fight his brain with a burning passion. He wasn’t usually afraid of letting his fantasy run wild, he was pretty much alone anyway. But it was different with Brian than it had been with other men. He didn’t feel like he could do whatever he wanted, because he couldn’t just leave it and forget about it later. He wasn’t sure why he felt like he couldn't forget Brian since he hadn’t tried. Maybe it was more that he didn’t want to, and his will was a bit more powerful than his ability. 

Only minutes after the door opened, and Roger was happy to see John, despite feeling physically and mentally destroyed. The door was also thunderous in volume. The smell of pizza was not as repulsing as Roger had imagined it to be. In fact, he was suddenly craving it desperately.  
“Food,” he commanded and reached his arms out.  
“You’re awake,” John noted. His hair was also a mess. But like Roger, he kind of had that look going for him all the time, so it didn’t make much of a difference.  
“Barely. Coffee,” Roger tried again.  
“You sound like a baby,” John teased and went into the kitchen after kicking his shoes off and hanging up his coat. Roger didn’t respond, just leaned his head back down as he felt the headache increase once more. It was very distracting. 

After putting on the coffee machine and being kind enough to bring him some of that pizza, John sat down by Roger’s feet that were swung up on the couch. He looked a bit displeased about that and Roger sat up straight(or slouched, really), and joined him in eating.  
“You seem pretty well today,” he commented.  
“I’m not. I’m just better looking than you,” John joked. We both know that isn’t true, Roger thought, but managed to refrain from saying it. Instead he ended up deep in thought about the night before as the food woke him up properly. His mind began to clear much faster, and at first it was relieving, but then it became anxiety-inducing. He had clearly been crying. He suddenly remembered why.  
“Deaky, I think I did something stupid,” he said quietly. John looked at him like he wanted him to continue. Like, maybe he knew what he was talking about. But Roger had to make sure before he confessed anything. “Chrissie showed up last night, right?” he asked. The memory of him smoking in the window as he looked at her and Brian standing in the snow together came back like a punch in the face.  
“Yeah,” John answered curtly. “You were pretty upset.” Roger sighed.  
“So upset I might have- oh, God.” The next few minutes of the evening came rushing back in a levee-flooding-over kind of manner. “I kissed Freddie. Oh no,” he mumbled. His body went from hot and sweaty to cold in an instant. What had he done?  
“Oh...yeah, you did that,” John agreed quietly, looking away. Roger realized he was probably pretty uncomfortable talking about his friends queer sequences.  
“Fuck me,” Roger growled. John choked a bit. Then he seemed to realize it was just the expression. Roger couldn’t help but laugh at him a little. 

The in-between moments were a blur, he couldn’t remember a single person wishing him a happy new year. Oh yeah, 1971. Sometime right before midnight everything started becoming foggy. Roger wracked his aching brain. Looking down at his hands that were still shaking a little bit when he relaxed them, another memory came flooding back. His hand being held. Brian being the one to hold it. Roger couldn’t remember what had happened between him kissing Freddie and getting to that point, but it didn’t really matter. They had been holding hands in his room, on his bed. That must be when Roger had fallen asleep in there. Something happened in his chest, the nervous storm that had been brewing all morning became a bit more of a normal downpour. His heart slowed down a little, the tight sensation loosened up. Thumb brushing on his index finger, he relished in the vague yet somehow clear memory. For a fleeting moment he felt at peace. Maybe he hadn’t ruined everything by kissing Freddie, maybe Brian wasn’t angry with him. Logically there wasn’t a reason for him to be, right, but Roger knew he could be. That’s just how it felt. There was a tension between them, Brian must notice it too. 

Roger decided not to say anything about that to John. By the way, Brian was just coming out of the shower as well, so he couldn’t. He didn’t want to have that confrontation at all, he realized. He didn’t want to talk about it, even though he felt like he should apologize for everything. It was in the air; he had done something wrong. 

“I should probably go home,” John began as Brian hurried into his room, towel wrapped around his waist. Roger looked away sternly. That room had a history now, somehow. A history he was part of, that is. He remembered that emptiness that had been in the apartment after Chrissie moved out. Just having been in Brian’s bedroom one night made him feel like a large part of that emptiness was filled. He already knew he wanted to be in there more, but now he felt like he needed to. “My parents are probably worried about me,” John explained as he put his coat back on.  
“Have you looked into moving into my old flat?” Roger asked. John nodded with a smile.  
“Yes, my parents think it’s a good idea. Since I know you, the landlord is a bit familiar with me, so I think he’ll agree to let me have it,” he explained, clearly happy to change the subject from what they talking about earlier. “I mean, as long as I’m not any worse than you were, I’m sure he’s happy to have me.”  
“I think so too,” Roger agreed, not bothering to be offended. 

John left as Roger hopped into the shower. It felt inexplicably good to wash the stench of booze and sweat off himself, and to be alone for a second. After having eaten and cleared up the past night, his body began to feel more relaxed and at ease. Well, except one particular part of him. Brian had been in here only minutes ago after all. The air was still misty. The privacy was alluring. Roger wondered silently if Brian had been thinking about him in here too, just moments ago, and it was completely intoxicating to ponder about. A good sort of intoxication. His left hand met the wall as his right ventured downward and making contact like a million times before. It made him feel a bit guilty, that thought from before of him not wanting to fuck things up still present, but mostly it made him feel good. His eyes closed again, warm water heating up his body again and caressing his back. Still tired and a bit woozy, it wasn’t hard to imagine his own touch as Brian’s. The repetitive motion was obviously nothing unfamiliar, but his mind was really cooking up a storm of visions, imaginary touches. Skin to skin, long limbs, nimble fingers. He had to bite his lip not to make a sound. He had been silent up until that point, but he couldn’t hold back a gasp as he came. And the good feeling was present for about five seconds as he came down, until it crashed into embarrassment and guilt. God, what was wrong with him, he thought. He couldn’t even toss off without feeling weird about it. Coming out may not have been such a good idea after all. 

That made a new memory flash up. After he’d kissed Freddie, which by the way had been his first kiss with a man at all, he’d told Brian. He remembered now. He had been having one of those fits where the world just closed in around him, and he had just said it. Strangely enough however, he didn’t regret it now. Roger knew he’d tell Brian eventually. Sure, it wasn’t pretty. But he’d still held his hand afterwards. That made Roger realize he must be missing a lot here. What were they now? He’d kissed a man, told Brian about his sexuality, then they’d held hands and then he woke up in his bedroom. Roger sighed. What the hell was he going to do? He couldn't just _ask_ could he? No, he would have to ride this out and see what happened. 

Coming out of the shower and back into the cold, bright flat was horrible. He had thrown his clothes into the laundry basket and swiftly walked back to his own room, holding on to the towel around his waist tightly, wondering if Brian was trying not to look too. His room was dead silent and dark, curtains drawn. Someone had been here. Someone had had sex here. Roger grunted with disgust, but couldn’t be bothered to change his sheets right now. He just picked out some new clothes, some soft and kind clothes, and met Brian in the kitchen once more. He was leaning back against the counter like the adorable giant he was, reading the paper which he had apparently fetched. The coffee machine was done brewing and Roger silently got himself and Brian mugs from the cupboard as he mustered up some courage, trying to draw his fingers through his hair.  
“Happy new year, Bri,” he said quietly. Brian jumped a little and looked at him.  
“Happy new year, Rog,” he answered with a faint smile.  
“I’ve been called that all my life, but I like it best when you do it,” Roger admitted absent-mindedly. Then he froze in the middle of pouring coffee. He just said that out loud. Oh no. Brian was quiet for a moment before snorting.  
“Sure,” he just said. Roger felt hands on his own and looked down. Brian hurried to guide them away from the mugs as he had been about to pour over the edge of one.  
“Sorry. Sorry, that was- I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he stammered, already blushing furiously. Brian looked happy.  
“Chrissie used to call me Bri, but I prefer when you do it, honestly,” he spoke quietly as he took the coffee pot from his hands and poured his own cup. Roger felt his heart skip a beat, which he had never thought was possible. He couldn’t speak. He could barely even smile. What the hell was this morning about? Or afternoon, or whatever. As Brian got a cigarette from his back pocket and lit it a bit clumsily with a lighter from the counter, Roger did smile however.  
“You smoke now?” he questioned.  
“Shut it,” Brian grumbled, eyebrows furrowed in thought. Roger only managed to wonder if something was wrong for a second before Brian turned his head, a glimmer in his eye and a smile on his lips. A shiver ran down Roger’s body. Brian was the most beautiful thing in existence. He couldn’t fuck this up. If he did, he’d never forgive himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Done :-)
> 
> Once again, sorry it was so long! I'll try and be a bit more brief in the future. Also lmao writing masturbation is hard? I probably won't write any sort of smut in this because I suck at it and it makes me queasy. 
> 
> Ahh anyway thank you for reading, lovely doves!<3


	11. "You Can't Hurry Love."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian confronts Freddie, even though he shouldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe this chapter has been finished for three days I just didn't want to post two at the same time! I'm honestly not sure what the hell's going on in this one so bear with me!
> 
> Happy reading babes!

When he woke up, Brian had been angry. He had a headache, he felt sick, the coffee was out, John Deacon was sleeping on their couch. But mainly he was angry with Freddie. 

He had been moments away from going over when his bedroom door had swung open. Brian would have slept in Roger’s room, but a couple had been shagging in there and he just hadn’t been able to find it within himself to drive them out. So he crashed next to Roger and fell asleep pretty quickly. Roger looked like a mess, a much bigger mess than Brian was feeling like, and he stopped feeling sorry for himself. He sounded like a mess, too. 

After they’d chatted and had pizza for breakfast and maybe cleared the night up a bit more, Brian was ready to go confront Freddie. Roger wasn’t nearly as panicked as he had been the other night, maybe he’d even forgotten about all of that. It seemed a lot of his memories were in a blur at the moment, but he looked spooked when he thought about them. So now Brian was standing outside Freddie and Mary’s flat, it was already evening, the world pitchy black outside once more. It was easier on the eyes, at least. He gave the door another hard knock. Eventually he heard footsteps approaching and backed away a little. Freddie opened, looking dazed and hungover as well, with a tortoiseshell cat stroking against his leg.  
“We should talk,” he said and walked inside. Realistically he knew his anger was misplaced; a kiss is just a kiss, it wasn’t aimed at him personally and if anything, Roger should be the one doing this. But he was just so angry about it, he had to.  
“Sure,” Freddie agreed, closing the door behind him. Brian studied him, and he looked like he knew what was coming. 

“This is about Roger, isn’t it?” he sighed as they walked into the living room. Another cat was dozing on the couch armrest.  
“Yes it is,” Brian confirmed. It was clear Freddie understood that Brian would be upset. He did know how he felt about Roger, and if he didn’t, he’d figure it out now. “Where’s Mary?”  
“Shopping. We’re out of a lot of stuff.” That’s when Brian realized their apartment was also still a mess. He and Roger had kind of tried to clean up a little, but it seemed neither of them really had the motivation. He didn’t answer Freddie, but instead pressed on.  
“I’m sorry to be crass, Freddie, but why did you do that?” he asked, hands on his hips. Brian felt like a disappointed parent. Freddie sighed, looking like an ashamed child.  
“I don’t know, Brian. I didn’t really think, I suppose,” he mumbled, scratching his head. “Do you want something to eat?”  
“No thank you.” Brian’s tone was still serious. “Roger was pretty upset afterwards, you know.” Freddie reacted to this, rubbing his eyes.  
“He was?” he asked, concerned. Then he straightened himself a little, seeming to come to his senses a little bit. “I mean, he did come over to me, Bri. You’re making it sound like I’m a villain here. We just kissed, how is that even your business?” he argued, crossing his arms. But he didn’t raise his voice. Freddie was fundamentally diplomatic, even though his defensive side could sometimes get the best of him.  
“He’s my friend,” Brian answered quickly. “And you know I like him.”  
“But he doesn’t belong to you,” Freddie reasoned. 

It was quiet for a moment as they thought about their arguments. Brian couldn’t help but flare up inside, he had never felt this protective over someone, and it was invigorating and a bit scary at the same time.  
“All of that is besides the point anyway,” Brian finally decided, knowing he had to calm down a little bit.  
“What is the point, then? You’re jealous seems to be the issue, anyway,” Freddie declared calmly.  
“I’m not,” Brian snapped back. They went quiet again, apparently both on the verge of becoming more angry than they wanted to. He and Freddie had bickered about little things before, but never about romantic relationships, and it was far too heavy for them. “The issue is that he was upset and I think you should apologize.”  
“Did he talk to you about it?” Freddie asked, now looking a bit calmer once more. Brian nodded, that particular memory of the night clear as day in his head. Taking his hand, brushing his hair out of his face. His voice, low and a little broken. The things he said, of course.  
“Yeah, he did. He said he didn’t want you to do that,” Brian mumbled, a little embarrassed, strangely enough. It wasn’t really his place to say, but he wanted to get it out of the way. Freddie narrowed his eyes at him.  
“Is this really your place, Bri?” Freddie asked as though he had been reading his mind. “I know you like him. But if he has an issue with me, I’d rather take it with him instead of you.”  
“You’re right. I just wanted to tell you that,” Brian agreed. A black and white cat stroked against his leg. “Is this one new?” Brian asked absentmindedly as he didn’t recognize the feline.  
“Yes,” Freddie said, seeming excited about it despite their tension. “His name is Miko.”  
“Miko,” Brian echoed quietly and bent down to scratch his forehead. “I like him.”  
“Roger or Miko?” Freddie joked, and Brian looked up to see a glimmer in his eye.  
“Both,” Brian confessed. Freddie smiled and nodded, turning away a little as he let down his arms from being crossed over his chest. “If you want to come over, do it tonight.”  
“Alright.”

When he came home again, the flat was quiet, apart from the radio buzzing on softly in the kitchen. From the front door was a straight view into the living room, and Roger was sleeping on the couch with his duvet pulled up to his chin. Upon further examination, it was Brian’s duvet. He wondered to himself why Roger had bothered to go get it and take it to the couch when he just could’ve slept in his room. But then he remembered Roger’s room wasn’t particularly inviting at the time, and maybe it did feel a little bit strange sleeping in Brian’s room. It had been a strange 24 hours. Brian decided to change Roger’s bedsheets and clean up a bit more, have a cup of tea, eat some more of the pizza that was cold now, grab a book from the shelf in Roger’s room and then he sat down in the armchair they’d gotten from Roger’s old flat. It was impossibly comfortable, and rather beautiful in it’s green velvet and roundish shape. Leaning his head against his elbow, Brian realized he was pretty tired too. His eyes wandered hopelessly to Roger, fascination once more overcoming him about his features. His hair was dry now, and it looked soft and golden in the warm, yellow light from a floor lamp. It was otherwise very dark in the flat, they’d turned on no lights in their hungover defiance against it, and only the dark purple post-sunset sky provided them with it. Roger’s skin looked a bit blushed and warm. He thought about touching it for so long he managed to fall asleep before it happened. 

Then with a jolt he woke, eyes widening with a sudden loud noise. The front door was, as mentioned, in clear view. Freddie came inside. Brian glanced over at Roger, who was rubbing his eyes and groaning quietly. Idiot, Brian thought as he looked back at Freddie. Not that he could have known. But still.  
“Goodmorning, darlings,” Freddie greeted them, sounding a bit more chirpy than he had been before. It wasn’t morning, it was still the same, long, dreadful first of January.  
“Hi, Freddie,” Roger grumbled into the duvet which he had pulled up a bit further, though his eyes were open now.  
“I’d like to talk with you, Rog,” Freddie started, no shoes or jacket to take off as he’d only walked across the hall. He seemed determined. Brian realized that was his cue to leave, and only got up as fast as he could manage, feeling yet a little better after a nap. Stiff as ever, though.  
“I’ll give you some privacy, then,” he said quietly, sharing a long look with Freddie as they passed each other slowly. Brian meant it, and went into his room. 

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it wasn’t easy to avoid. He didn’t have a radio in his bedroom, and holding his ears just felt a bit over-the-top. So he could make out their voices through his door, although they were speaking quietly.  
“I’ve realized that what happened yesterday was my mistake. I shouldn’t have done that, it was impulsive and I’m sorry if I made you … uncomfortable,” Freddie said quietly. Brian grabbed his guitar from where it was hanging on the wall. He expected Roger to say something like ‘It’s okay’ or ‘I’m fine’, since that’s what he had been doing all day. But he didn’t.  
“Yeah, actually… that wasn’t cool, Fred,” he answered. Brian smiled a little bit to himself, picking on the strings as soft as he could. 

He and Freddie had been friends for a long time, and he knew that Freddie was a good person, maybe one of the best he knew. And Brian knew he regretted it, he knew he felt bad, but it was so much easier painting him in a bad light. It was easier to be upset. It was some competitive side in him, or maybe something defensive. He wasn’t as quick to forgive and move on as Freddie usually was, but as he sat playing the guitar and listening not-so-absentmindedly to their conversation, he began to let that anger go. It wasn’t the end of the world.

“I forgive you, of course I do. But- just so we’re clear, I don’t feel that way about you,” Roger reassured and it was very uplifting to hear. Brian accidentally picked too hard and the string made a twangy sound. He muted it as fast as he could.  
“I know, I know. I think you’re in love, Roger,” Freddie said. That was not so uplifting. What the hell, actually? He could hear Roger laugh in a mocking tone, but it wasn’t much comfort. The guitar’s tones rung out until they were inaudible. Everything was quiet. Brian closed his eyes. Of course, there was a small chance they were talking about him, since he and Roger had become closer, but wouldn’t he have known? He wasn’t an idiot. He would’ve known. He should’ve known. That must be another reason for Roger being so wound up with kissing Freddie; he had feelings for somebody else. Brian considered the people he knew Roger knew, but they were too many. That must also be why things had moved so fast, why he had come out to his family and then to Brian in such a short span of time. He must be together with somebody, without Brian knowing. Had he cheated on some bloke with that kiss?

Brian caught himself spiraling and snapped out of it with a tense sigh. At least he’d distracted himself from what they had been saying outside his bedroom door. They seemed to be done talking about all of that, which was a relief. Now Brian had an overwhelming urge to go out and tell Freddie he was sorry for being such a dick about the whole thing, since he had probably just been caught in the middle of something bigger than he thought it’d be. But he fought it and stayed in his room.  
“Do you want to stay for tea or anythin’?” Roger asked kindly.  
“No thank you, Roger. I should go. Take care of yourself,” Freddie answered and his voice faded out, probably walking to the front door again.  
“You sound like my mother,” Roger grumbled and Brian smiled.  
“Oh dear, forgive me,” Freddie joked in a dramatic tone and they both laughed a little. Then the door opened and closed. Brian fell back on his bed, the guitar on his stomach. He continued playing, eyes closed now. No clear melody or rhythm, a bit of tragedy in it. His bed seemed much bigger without the duvet.

“I’m coming in,” came Roger’s voice from right outside and before Brian could argue, or even respond, he had done as promised. “Sorry for taking your duvet.” He fell down onto Brian’s bed beside him, still curled up. God fucking damn it, he was so…! Adorable!  
“It’s fine,” Brian laughed.  
“Do you want to know a secret?” Roger asked, his voice a bit different, all of a sudden. Humorous, still, but a bit nervous. It made Brian nervous too, in a devastating and hopeful way. What was he going to confess? He was quiet for a long time, but then he sat up. “Nevermind.”  
“What?” Brian asked, smiling with a hint of annoyance. “Just say.”  
“No, I’ll tell you later,” Roger argued, shifting so that the duvet was around his shoulders properly.  
“You can just tell me now,” Brian countered softly, also sitting up, the guitar now muted with his sleeve once more.  
“Everything has it’s time, Bri. Now play something nice,” Roger suggested, looking at the instrument with sleepy eyes and wonder. Brian sighed, not bothering to peer whatever it was out of him. He couldn’t force it. He had no right to.  
“Like what?” He began toying with the strings again, making something up until it turned into something that existed. The chords to You Can’t Hurry Love, but much slower.  
“What is it?” Roger yawned.  
“You don’t know The Supremes?” Brian fake-gasped.  
“Of course I do!” he laughed. “I know it, I swear. But could you just… sing it a little?”  
“No,” Brian huffed. Roger rolled his eyes. 

He kept playing the song, working out the melody as he had the chords in the lower strings, and it was a bit difficult but not too much. He did it all the time, but with an audience was a little harder.  
“You truly can’t,” Roger agreed as he played the melody of the chorus.  
“Huh?” Brian hummed, not having realized it was the chorus because he was going so slow.  
“You can’t hurry love,” Roger explained. Brian swallowed. Roger’s eyes were closed again, his head was leaned back a little. It would’ve been so easy. Just to lean over, the distance was so short. And it was dark in this room too, apart from the desk lamp. It would’ve been easy to kiss him. But Brian remembered what Roger said to Freddie, and managed to catch himself long before actually doing it. In the risk of Roger being together with somebody, or even just having feelings for someone else, Brian couldn’t consciously be the bad guy. But it was so hard to fight it. He just wanted to know, he wanted to get it over with and just see what would happen. He’d wait a week, then he’d kiss him.  
“You truly can’t,” he agreed eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woop!
> 
> Not much to say now! I'm in that place where I feel like dragging it out because I'm a Loser but I'll try not to! Next chapter will be cute I think!


	12. "I'd Like To See What A Soulmate Looks Like In Real Life."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian spends some time with John and Roger. There's drumming, and a dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again!
> 
> It's been a little while, I know! Not that long, this is still like...a pretty fast update. I've been busy since last week, I had to bake for a project at school and then I celebrated a bunch of birthdays and yada yada. Anyway!
> 
> Happy reading!

It had been a couple days since classes started up again. So far things were sort of calm, only a pair of new assignments due and the tests were far away for now. The beginning of the semester was always a nice time, the illusion of things becoming easier somehow was still clear and realistic, though Brian knew it wouldn’t last. So he was already at the library an hour after his last class, working ahead of schedule. Fundamentally he was an organized person, and all throughout the holidays things had been so hectic, it felt nice to get some order back into his life. God bless deadlines. 

John had also joined him, accidentally stumbling upon him half an hour ago. John didn’t seem like the guy to study ahead, but he had sat down anyway. Of course, they hadn’t been studying much, but rather just talking quietly. Things weren’t so tense now, since they had involuntarily spent a lot of the holiday together. 

“How long have you been together?” Brian asked curiously, sipping the last drops of coffee that had gone cold now.  
“Just a few months. Um, three,” John responded, looking happy. As it turned out, he wasn’t all that talkative, it was just when Roger was around that he sort of had to be. Roger was very extroverted, so that wasn’t a surprising effect.  
“You seem to really like her.”  
“I do. I didn’t think I’d meet- well, not my soulmate perhaps, but something along those lines - this early in life,” John explained. Brian couldn’t help but smirk a little. John was only 19, but he sounded like he was way older by his choice of words. Just knowing it was early in life and that youth wasn’t a lasting thing was more than most teenagers seemed to know. “Speaking of which, how is Roger?” 

Brian gave him a short glare. Although the thought of it lit a little fire in Brian, Roger was not his soulmate. First off, those didn’t exist(but he didn’t want to say that after John just declared Veronica his, sort of), and secondly, he would have known. That wasn’t something that could just creep up on you, was it?  
“He’s good. Christ, it was a strange holiday, wasn’t it? But things are back to normal now,” Brian shrugged, knowing he was being vague. 

In fact he was a little bit bitter. Things had been seeming like they were heading in some favourable direction for him and Roger, but now it had all kind of plateaued. He was in a dead end, having trouble sleeping, just because of that thing Freddie said. It was stupid, he knew it was stupid, because maybe it didn’t even mean anything. The chance of Roger being “in love” with _him_ did exist and maybe he would have done something about it if it weren’t for how Roger had reacted to Freddie kissing him on New Years Eve. He had been really upset, and Brian couldn’t imagine having to do that to him just to find out. And two weeks had passed since then, and it seemed a little like they were both just waiting for something to happen. Brian wanted Roger to be clearer about his intentions, but at the same time maybe Roger was wishing for the same thing. Roger was a much bolder person, so Brian had kind of been hoping he’d do it. If not confess his feelings for him, at least tell him he had feelings for someone else. That’s something guys talk about, right? Maybe not if they were gay. Maybe Roger didn’t want to say anything because he didn’t want to bore Brian with his queer anecdotes. 

“Earth to Brian. You there?” John’s voice interrupted his twisting and tangling thoughts. He looked up from the empty coffee cup once more, which he had been mindlessly staring down into.  
“I’m here. But I think I want to leave,” he answered and began to gather his stuff. “Roger’s been out looking for a job today, we were supposed to meet up and get dinner. You want to join us?”  
John lit up a little. “Yeah, of course! I was going to go visit Veronica at work, but right afterwards,” he agreed with a smile.  
“We can do that,” Brian hummed. “I’d like to see what a soulmate looks like in real life,” he joked and John looked a bit spooked at first, but then he relaxed. Maybe if he saw love in action, he’d be better at determining his own.  
“Just don’t fall in love with her,” he warned with a humorous tone.  
“No risk,” Brian chuckled.  
“You’d be surprised. She’s really quite perfect.” 

Brian and Roger had decided to meet by the Victoria and Albert Museum since it was kind of in the middle between Imperial College and where they lived. Neither of them had visited it before, but Brian walked by it every day on his way to school. It was a beautiful building, truly. The snowstorm that had drawn over London throughout the holidays had passed, and the fresh, white snow had already become filthy and gray on the streets. But it was clear as the sun set somewhere beyond the buildings, and the clouds that painted the sky were pretty colours at least. Brian and John chatted as they walked, making small jokes about what Roger might be working as in desperation of money.  
“He could never work in an office, come on. I think if he sits still for more than half an hour he explodes,” Brian quipped.  
“That’s true. He has a nice car, he should work as a mechanic,” John suggested instead.  
“A nice car? The Alfa Romeo? God, I hate it,” Brian sighed, and John looked extremely offended, which Brian couldn’t help but laugh at. Then John’s expression turned to one of mischief, looking behind Brian’s back.  
“If you insult me or my car ever again I’m knocking you out, Bri,” came Roger’s voice from ahead. They’d already reached the museum. Brian got a bit worried he had actually offended him, but he didn’t look so.  
“Sorry.”  
“It’s fine, it’s fine. But I’m serious, I’ll hurt you.” Roger gave him a pat on the back and a big smile as they headed to their first destination: Veronica. John explained quickly where they were going. 

It turned out to be a pet store, and the sound of croaking birds and squeaky toys being played with by puppies filled their ears. Little known to most, Brian was the biggest animal lover in the whole universe, so this was absolutely a delight. So was Veronica to John, judging by the way his face lit up when a blonde girl walked in from the staff room behind the counter.  
“Hi!” she chirped, face full of sunshine.  
“Hello there,” John responded and they shared a quick kiss.

Although Brian was not a part of their interaction by any means, he could feel by watching them that everything else had disappeared. He had gone away completely from John’s attention. It was fascinating really, he didn’t understand it quite, but some kind of longing was born in him. He wanted the world to disappear like that, too. Eyes burned into him and he glanced over at Roger only to catch him looking away. John said something, but he couldn’t quite hear it for a second.  
“- and this is Brian, his soulmate,” he introduced.  
“What?” Brian choked out. They all looked at him with a bit of confusion.  
“I said you’re roommates. You still are, I hope?” John quirked an eyebrow. Brian felt himself blush a little.  
“Oh yeah, of course,” he nodded awkwardly. Roger shook Veronica’s hand politely, that famed smirk on his face. Oh, you are ridiculous, Brian thought.  
“Nice to meet you,” Roger greeted. Veronica smiled warmly. Brian understood what John had meant earlier, warning him not to fall in love with her. She had a wonderful smile. 

John and Veronica stood and talked for a while and there weren’t a lot of people in the store at the time, so Roger could go around squeaking all the toys and whatever else he wanted to do. Brian followed him as if he was a child and he was afraid he’d knock down or steal something.  
“What’s your favourite animal, Bri?” Roger asked, eyes locked to the glass of a large bird cage. Brian couldn’t even be bothered to sound casual and cool and say something like “dogs”.  
“Badgers,” he answered truthfully instead. Roger looked over at him. He was used to that reaction, so he just smiled at him.  
“What about yours?”  
“Dogs,” Roger hummed and Brian couldn’t help but burst out laughing. 

They walked around a bit more, Brian looked at the aquarium fish, maybe thinking it wouldn’t be terrible to have some. He couldn’t consider it for long however until a soft cry could be heard from across the store. It was Roger, and Brian wondered what in the world could make someone so wary of his masculinity as Roger make that sound. 

Joining him by the puppy pen, he understood. There were only a few puppies(fortunately), and they were all sleeping soundly in a pile except for one that was leaning against the glass with it’s little paws pressed against it. A golden retriever, or probably a mix.  
“Can we please get a dog?” Roger asked, grabbing a hold of Brian’s jacket sleeve as if he needed support to stand. It was pathetic, understandable, and also adorable.  
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Brian sighed. “You’ll be working full time soon, hopefully, and I have classes all week.”  
“You don’t have classes every single hour, and we live like five minutes away. And I could just...not get a job, and we’ll have time,” Roger reasoned, crouching down to put his finger against the puppy’s paw through the glass. She barked playfully, and Roger let out a little 'aw'.  
“And how do you expect us to afford a dog, then? Let alone rent,” Brian hummed, feeling sorry for sounding so old and dull. Roger didn’t respond, probably ignoring him and already imagining the life as a dog owner. 

Before they left the store once more, Veronica piped up, looking smart.  
“John told me you’re looking for a job, Roger. And I couldn’t help but notice you like dogs,” she grinned, and the rest of the company seemed to realize in unison what she was about to suggest. “I don’t think I can offer you a full-time job, but definitely a few shifts until you find something steady, if you’d like?”  
“Yes!” Roger chimed instantly. Brian got a bit afraid at first that he’d be too comfortable only working shifts with something he really enjoyed to keep looking seriously, but the joy and excitement in his body-language was too much to argue with. “That’s a wonderful idea, when can I start?” Veronica laughed a little.  
“I can’t promise much, I’ll have to talk to my boss, but I’ll tell John and he’ll let you know, right, love?” She looked to John, who agreed with a nod.  
“Wonderful,” Roger beamed. Brian knew they’d be getting a dog in the end. Because one: Roger wanted one really badly, and two: Brian wanted to make him happy. He’d like a dog, too. But mostly he wanted to make Roger happy. He was still secretly competing with whoever Roger had feelings for, even though it was embarrassing and he had no idea who it was. 

Not much more to say and a growling hunger growing in Brian’s stomach, they walked out onto the London Streets again. It had gotten dark already, and the snow had mostly been pushed up on the sidewalks and gone dirty gray. His shoes would get wet, and by extension his feet.  
“Let’s eat somewhere close. Daphne’s?” he suggested, but found to his dismay that neither John or Roger were by his side anymore, but had gotten stuck a bit up the street, looking into the window of a store. Brian sighed to himself, knowing what store it was before he had walked back to them. He’d been in there a million times, so he shouldn’t be surprised to find them ogling at a new guitar. A Gibson, a Les Paul Deluxe. Pale gold in color. He wasn’t much for the flashy colors, but the two of them seemed impressed.  
“Do you want to go in?” Brian asked, but then regretted it. He was hungry. But they’d already disappeared into the shop like the disobedient children they were. 

The store had a huge guitar section, practically a whole wall and then some. Brian couldn’t afford a new guitar, neither did he need one, so it was dangerous looking around at the newest models. He picked down a twelve-string from the wall, a light brown Fender, just to try it. He’d played twelve-strings before, but not owning one, it wasn’t often. The sound was clear, a little twangy, but it was still nice to listen to. John was studying acoustic bass guitars, looking a bit doubtful, but curious all the same. Not very rock’n’roll, but it was a nice concept. Like an upright and an electric intertwined. 

Suddenly a thunderous sound rung out through the store. A little ear-piercing but mesmerizing at the same time. The store did have a drum kit for people to come in and try it, the same way they did for the guitars on the walls, but people rarely ever did it since it was so loud. Brian looked over to John with a wrinkled nose, a silent judgement about the volume, but John was smiling. He wiggled his eyebrows a bit and then hung the acoustic bass back to go look. Brian followed warily, realizing along his approach that the drumming was actually not bad. Not bad at all. The drummer changed it all the time, a fill here and there to skip between tempos. It was very skillful, actually. 

The drum kit coming into view, Brian literally felt his jaw drop, like in the movies. He hadn’t thought knees becoming weak was an actual thing that people experienced either, until then. It was Roger! His light hair was throwing back and forth, and so was he, banging the toms so hard he had to inhale quickly before impact, screwing up his face a little. He didn’t have his jacket on anymore, arms in full view, muscles rippling. It was like time stopped, yet somehow clearly moved forward with a steady beat, the steadiest of all time. Suddenly things just made sense somehow. Like finally there was a rhythm to follow. Adrenalin suddenly pumping, Brian realized he hadn’t been breathing, and ended up having to clear his throat. It broke the momentum. Roger looked up, the beat falling away from him. He didn’t seem aware of the noise he’d been making at all, he was just smiling in a way that Brian had only seen him do once before. When people caught Brian playing guitar he usually felt a little bit awkward, uncomfortable with seeming like he showed off, but Roger was completely different. The amount of confidence on his face was surreal. He looked just like when they had first met, and Brian was stunned. And just like the first time, Roger seemed to know he was stunned, and was annoyingly happy about it. 

“That was good!” John grinned as Roger hopped away from the kit.  
“I haven’t played much since I moved out, but I like to come here every once in a while. You know, to oil the hinges a little,” Roger responded, but more at Brian. He finally came down from whatever ecstasy he had been going through, managing to smile.  
“We can’t get a drum kit if you’ll play like that,” he joked. They could get a drum kit. And a dog. Whatever he wanted.  
“It’s the only way I know how, mate. Let’s go eat before Reid kicks me out again. Daphne’s?” 

With that he threw on his jacket again and walked out. Brian and John shared a knowing look. They would have to start a band.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Sick!
> 
> This chapter was hella all over the place! 
> 
> I've actually never read a soulmate AU but this chap was like a little snippet of that kind of thing. I hope you liked it! 
> 
> Also I'm going on vacation on Friday so I might not be able to write, depending on the internet connection there and stuff. Buh-bye!


	13. "Let's Just Play Something We Know."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lads play some music and Roger is, surprise, conflicted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! 
> 
> As mentioned before I was on vacation last week and never really found the motivation to write! But now I'm back with this little chapter that I actually really like, I think it has a nice flow and it's a reasonable length for once. 
> 
> Happy reading!

“Let’s just play something we know,” Freddie suggested, sounding a little frustrated, but like he was trying hard not to. Roger was frustrated too, but he didn’t want to give off the impression of being the hot-headed drummer stereotype.   
“You lads like Led Zep?” John piped in, looking around. Everyone seemed to light up a little, giving off sounds of agreement. “Ramble On, then?”  
“Maybe something with a bit more...speed?” Roger tried. He thought Ramble On was a good song, an incredible song, but the drums were sort of just a 2-4, except when it was just the hihat, for most of it. He wanted to show what he could do.   
“Let’s not squabble about this as well,” Freddie started, but Brian had already started a riff. Whole Lotta Love. “Ah, but that has so much...space in the middle,” he then argued.   
“He’s an astrophysicist, after all,” Roger grinned, and Brian shot him a smile that was a little too outer-worldly, so much so he accidentally tapped the kick. That made Brian laugh a little, and the only thing distracting Roger from doing something else dumb was John coming in with the bass.   
“Okay, we’re doing it now,” Freddie mumbled before he broke into song. 

They were in a small studio in the basement of the music store in their neighbourhood. They’d gotten to borrow it just for practice since both Roger and Brian were there so often. John had moved into Roger’s old flat a week ago, so now they were all neighbours, which just felt like destiny. Christmas was long gone, the days sinking into that dark, depressing period of rain and dark piles of snow on the side of the road where people thought it was reasonable to take the Christmas lights down. He’d noticed Brian was getting a bit down too, university probably exhausting the shit out of him. But him being distant and sad kind of just made Roger feel like he wanted to be closer to him. Or some other new emotion, where he wanted to tell him he was doing good and just give him a hug to cheer him up. Or, like - a blowjob. 

Somehow he didn’t miss his cue to come in. _Somehow_ , since he was suddenly very distracted. Sure, Freddie’s voice was great, and John was a shockingly good bassist(this kid’s just full of surprises, isn’t he?), but Brian? Brian, with his big hair and long legs. His pretty mouth. His skillful fingers. Drum, Roger, just drum. 

When he finally snapped out of it, the song breaking into the strange chorus, Roger realized it was sounding pretty good. Brian was doing that slide on the guitar that resembled a car driving by, and the bass was static but steady. Everything was falling into place. Maybe it was just the fact that everyone knew the song really well since before, but what are the chances of that? No, things fit. They work like cogwheels. It made Roger break out laughing and everyone seemed to feel something too, looking at each other and smiling. 

 

“So how about that, eh?” Roger asked Freddie as they closed the garage door. Brian and John had to get to their respective classes as it was Thursday, but he had an afternoon shift at the pet store today and Freddie had taken the day off from work to get together and play, which was ambitious.   
“How about that? How about that! Freddie exclaimed, dunking Roger in the back a little too hard, but he just laughed it off. “I think we’re onto something here, Rog.”  
“I do too, actually. When we played Whole Lotta Love, that was - not to sound like a child - but I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way playing.” Freddie smiled at him, stretching his arms out into the rain that was drizzling down from a haze of clouds.   
“I could tell,” he smirked, falling into steps with him as they walked back to the main street to catch a cab.   
“You have that look on your face,” Roger hummed back.  
“Well, dear, speaking of being onto things. You really need to do something about your feelings for Brian,” Freddie declared and Roger felt a knot tie in his stomach as he hushed him.   
“Not so loud, will you? It’s the middle of the day,” he hissed, looking around a little. Who would be out in the winter rain, sure, but this was a family neighbourhood. And families didn’t like him very much.   
“Oh come on, Rog. I’m serious,” Freddie shrugged, waving in a taxi. It drove by them, though. Freddie muttered something offensive.   
“Me too. And anyway - things are going good now, we’re getting along so well as friends, you don’t realize how much I would ruin everything if I said anything. And besides, he’s so busy right now with school. And you know, what would happen next? I don’t think-”  
“Shut up, oh my God,” Freddie sighed. Roger furrowed his brows, but then smiled a little. He had rambled on. “There’s always going to be something in the way, you know that, darling. Ifs and buts and blah blah blah. You like him. He likes you. What’s the issue?” 

Freddie seemed to realize a second after he’d finished talking what he had said. 

“What?” Roger managed to get out. Freddie looked a bit petrified for a moment, eyes blank as he gathered his thoughts.   
“I mean- doesn’t he? You think?” he coughed out, but Roger had already caught the whiff of blood and was on the trace.   
“What did he say? When? Did he say that?” he hammered out, even grabbing onto Freddie’s jacket.   
“Will you calm down?” Fred breathed, putting his hands on Roger’s shoulders and dug his eyes into his. Roger got a flashback, but put it out of his mind. Freddie let go, fortunately, and another cab came along. Roger decided to try it, and it slowed down. “Let’s talk about it when we get home, dear.”

 

They got into Freddie’s apartment, the meows of cats greeting them from around the flat. Delilah, the favourite, was ready at the door to be picked up or fed or something. Freddie crouched down and stroked her tricoloured pelt before he had even taken his jacket off.   
“Okay, we’re home now. Tell me,” Roger urged. Did he really want to know the truth here? He wasn’t sure, but he’d already begun begging, might as well wait for the prize.   
“Don’t you think I’ve fucked things up enough between the two of you?” Freddie asked with a sort of sad tone. Roger couldn’t help but realize he had a point, and sat down as well, jacket and shoes on. Romeo(another cat) entered from the kitchen and began rubbing against his leg.   
“But you said it yourself, what’s the issue? If it’s so clear to you, shouldn’t telling me the truth help?” Roger argued softly, giving Romeo a little massage behind his ears. He started purring deeply.   
“But I don't like being a bad friend. I know it sounds unbelievable, but I really don’t,” Freddie argued back. He was looking down silently, but then he sighed deeply. “Alright, fine. He does like you. He was very reluctant to tell me, trust me. He came over just to tell me off for kissing you. Sorry again. It was a whole thing, but then he told me that and he didn’t seem like he wanted you to know, but since I know you like him too...well, what’s the harm, anyway?” Freddie explained, reasoning with himself. Roger felt strange. 

On one hand, he had a fluttering, happy, nervous feeling because his crush liked him back and all that. They had a chance, a shot at being together. And what would that be like? In real life, outside of Roger’s head? And the thought that it might be in Brian’s head, that was mad too. But then on the other hand, what would happen? What if Brian wasn’t as keen on being together, Freddie did mention he didn’t seem to happy about the whole thing.

“What was that about him coming over?” Roger asked, interrupting his own thoughts to get more time to think them.   
“Oh, nothing, dear. He was just worried about you,” Freddie brushed off. But it gave Roger a warm feeling. He was worried about him? Had he been worried the same way Roger was worried now because Brian was so swamped with work it made him pale and dark around the eyes, frustrated and cold? He wanted to warm him up, that’s all.   
“What do you think I should do?” he asked finally. Freddie looked at him like he was stupid.   
“What do you think I think you should do?”

 

When Brian came home from class, Roger had decided to do something really stupid. The flat was filled with smoke, luckily they had no fire alarm to add to the level of annoyance and embarrassment at his work.   
“What the hell is going on?” Brian called from the hallway.   
“I thought I was cooking. Turns out I wasn’t,” Roger responded. He had just wanted to do something nice. He’d never confessed his feelings to a man before. Actually, not to anyone. Not properly, not honestly. He mentally scratched dinner as a way to do it.  
“Why? Why would you do that?” Brian sighed, coming into the kitchen. He threw his bag of books on the table, it sounded very heavy, and then opened a window. Smart, Roger should have thought of that, waving a towel around.   
“I’m mad,” Roger joked, hoping he hadn’t actually made Brian angry. He did look angry. Roger had never handled other people’s anger well, especially when it was directed at him. It made him equally, if not more, furious. So please don’t be angry, he thought.   
“You’re mad?” Brian questioned loudly. But then his expression softened and he leaned back against the table. “You are.”  
“I am,” Roger confirmed once more. How was he going to do this?  
“What were you going for then?” Brian asked. Should he just say it?  
“Romantic dinner for two,” Roger said sarcastically, though truly he did mean it. Brian scoffed. Maybe he should just kiss him and see what happened.  
“Of course.” Just do it.   
“Sorry.” Just do it. Come on, just do it.   
“It’s fine.. I’m not hungry anyway, I had a sandwich on my way home and I’m so fucking tired, I couldn’t chew if I tried.” Don’t go away. Just stay there. Until I’m done thinking.   
“Oh, yeah. You should sleep. Or rest, or something.” No, why would you say that, idiot! Is it too late now?  
“Yeah.” Brian stretched and yawned, already leaving the kitchen once more. “Clean up your mess. And also-” Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him. “I can sleep in tomorrow so be quiet when you get up, please.” Too late. 

Roger was left in the kitchen. He couldn’t force out a word. Not even a hum of agreement. He felt a little failed, a little empty, but at the same time it was for the best. Brian was tired and annoyed right now, even though he was good at hiding it. Had Roger tried anything he would have kicked him out. That was a big risk. So it just couldn’t happen. Never.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm almost finished with the pining I swear. I swear.


	14. "I Don't Think He Knows."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another day in the life. Except the universe is extra bitchy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> things are gonna happen in this chapter.. but I won't say what things! I didn't proofread it cause I'm too lazy and it's Sunday night so...happy reading, babes!

Roger awoke to a fully bright living room. Why he was in the living room, on the couch, was a good question until he began to remember the night before in slumberful memories. After Brian had gone to bed and apparently just clocked out completely in his exhaustion, Roger had began to think. A little too much, maybe, about what was going on. Though they were constantly together, constantly next to one another, he felt lonely and far away. He knew he was falling in love. He was falling in love with this distant star of a guy, who was close and yet far away. Too close to see properly, like when you’re looking for something and it was right in front of you all this time. In all these confused and muddled metaphors and frustrations he’d found the liquor cabinet. Poof, thoughts gone. Or rather, thoughts gone now. 

His limbs felt heavy and like they were still asleep, but his mind was working. He didn’t have a headache this time either, which was a relief. He hadn’t gotten that drunk, just drunk enough to fall asleep. As his senses awoke, the scribbling sound of pen on paper reached his ears. From the kitchen? He wobbled away to investigate. 

Brian was sitting at the kitchen table, papers and books and the devil and his aunt spread over it. In the short time they’d known one another, Roger had come to a few conclusions about Brian. Apart from the things about nice smile, arse and other physical features, along with the endless empathy and calm he possessed emotionally, there was the fact that he was organized. He hated a mess or any type of clutter. This also spread into the fact that he didn’t like surprises. But mostly the messy thing. So Roger had drawn a secondary conclusion; when Brian was messy, he was feeling bad. Whether it be sad, stressed, angry or some other emotion.  
“Hi,” he began softly. Brian twitched and looked up. His eyes were a bit hollow and the skin had turned dark. Darker.   
“Hey,” he hummed in response, his gaze fleeting to the book.   
“When did you get up?” Roger continued, heading for the coffee machine.   
“I don’t know,” Brian sighed after a moment’s pause. The annoyance was reeking off of him, and Roger for some reason didn’t get annoyed in return, but rather just felt in the way.   
“Did you sleep?” he tried instead.   
“A little.” Brian was mumbling, which meant he’d probably slept a _little_ indeed. Roger sighed deeply as he prepared the coffee. 

He’d been thinking about what Freddie had said a lot. Now that he was sober, all those thoughts came back without hindrance and he began to feel a little overwhelmed again. He hated not knowing, he hated that he couldn’t just ask. Why couldn’t he do it? He had always been straight-forward and a bit impulsive, and always wanted the truth to be on the table. So why not now?  
“I have a question,” he heard himself say. A knot tied in his stomach, but he eased his mind with the fact that he could still just ask something else. “About something Freddie said.” Wow, he was really not creating a lot of options for himself at all.   
“What?” Brian asked, still not sounding very interested. Oh, we’ll see about that, something in Roger sneered.   
“Um-” Roger waited with anticipation to hear what he - himself - would say. It was unpredictable, apparently. “He said that...well, we were talking after we’d played together in the studio, after you and Deaks had left-”  
“I’m sorry Rog, but get to the point, will you?” Brian looked up now, his face stern and tired. Roger cleared his throat, managing to not look away. Be casual! He leaned against the doorframe as Brian returned to his reading.  
“He said you like me,” he wrapped up. It took a second for Brian to react. Actually, it took two seconds. Three. He wasn’t saying anything. Or looking up. Was he...having a stroke?   
“You’re late for work, you know that, right?” he finally said.   
“What?” Roger asked before the surprise had even reached his mind completely. He looked up at the clock on the wall. He was half an hour late indeed. Oh yeah, he got drunk on a Tuesday night. “Oh, fuck, I’m an idiot!” he exclaimed, leaving the coffee, his jacket and the whole conversation he’d just begun behind as he headed for his recently acquired job. 

… 

Was there something _wrong_ with Freddie? Did he suddenly not want to be Brian’s friend anymore? Because it sure didn’t seem like it, with the way he was acting.

Brian leaned back in his chair as the front door opened and closed, Roger rushing out as fast as he could. Maybe he just wanted to run away from the situation as well. A deep sigh escaped his body. Then another. Oh man, he was beginning to hyperventilate a little bit. 

With a jolt Brian stood up, almost knocking over the chair on which he had been sitting in the process and stressfully drew his hands through his hair. He had to think. The reasonable side of his brain thought this wasn’t as bad as he was making it up to be, Roger hadn’t sounded shocked or disgusted or anything. But the instinctive side of him was screaming, a lot. This was too sudden, he hadn’t meant for him to ever know that, and now that he did Brian just wasn’t sure what to make of himself. This could flip his life over. If this came out, without his knowing consent, his life would be over. What will his family say? Maybe his landlord isn’t a big fan of gays in his building and will kick him out. 

He had to go see Freddie. He knew he was at work, but he had to at least try. So he went over in his socks and knocked hurriedly and hard on the door. Mary’s voice called for him to wait from indoors. When she opened, her eyes were wide and hair messy. Had she just woken up?  
“Brian,” she noted.   
“Is Freddie home?” he asked, almost out of breath.   
“No, what’s going on?” Surprise was clear in her voice as he walked past her into the flat. He didn’t do it in a rude, pushy way, but rather a curious way.   
“Are you sick?” he asked when he realized Freddie was indeed not there, and she looked pale and her nose was red.   
“Yes,” she sniffed back. Brian smiled at her. “Now, what’s going on, Brian? You looked like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Brian realized he had also told Mary about his feelings for Roger. In a moment he decided however that she would never tell anybody. She had even promised it. He sighed deeply once more, sitting down by their kitchen table. She joined him without pushing him to say anything else.   
“Roger asked me if I liked him,” he explained. When he said it like that it sounded like he was a teenager. Had Roger been a girl this would never have been such a big deal, but that just wasn’t the situation. “I don’t know how he knew that.”  
Mary looked surprised. “Maybe he just figured it out.”  
“No, he said Freddie said it. Which is why I wanted to talk to him,” Brian explained further. Mary nodded.   
“That’s strange. We talked about it-” Brian made a face. “Sorry. We talked about it and he said he thought it was ridiculous that you two could’t just admit it, which I honestly agree with, but that he’d never want to mess it up for you.”   
“So why would he?” It was truly a mystery.   
“Maybe he’s either trying to help, or maybe it was an accident,” Mary tried. Brian thought about it. It was more likely Freddie had tried to help, if anything. “Did you say it to him? That you like Roger, I mean.”  
“Um...I guess, in passing,” Brian mumbled. He remembered their little confrontation vividly. “But I don’t know if he really picked up on it.”   
“You know what it was?” Mary suddenly exclaimed. Brian looked at her in questioning. “Paul,” she nodded.

It didn’t make sense, but somehow it felt right. 

“Paul isn’t a bad guy, I really don’t think so, but you know he’s...well, keen on Freddie. And maybe you’ve noticed how he doesn’t like you?” Mary asked and Brian scoffed dramatically.   
“Yes.”  
“It wouldn’t surprise me if he, I don’t know- told Freddie to say it or something. He’s always doing stuff like that. I know that he’s jealous of you and Freddie so maybe…”  
“Mary, you’re dragging this out a lot. Are you sure you know what you’re talking about?” Brian questioned as he rubbed his eyes. Mary, to his knowledge, never lied. And she usually hated talking behind people’s backs, so it wouldn’t be like her at all to go on like this.   
“I’m just guessing. But doesn’t it seem right? If Paul wants to be with Fred, he’d want to push you away.”  
“But I don’t like Freddie that way,” Brian reasoned. Mary opened her mouth like she was about to say something, but stopped herself.   
“I know,” she said eventually.   
“And he’s going through a lot of trouble for it. God, I hope Freddie knows he’s a prick,” Brian sighed. Mary laughed, but she didn’t look very happy.   
“I don’t think he knows.”

Brian and Mary chatted for a while longer. She made tea and everything. They were the least two gossipy people possible, but it could be fun to do that every once in a while. 

“You do need to stop running from your problems, Bri. You know that, right?” Mary eventually concluded, taking a sip of her honey-sweetened tea.   
“I know,” Brian agreed. “What do you think I should do?” Mary looked thoughtful for a second.   
“I think you should go home, take Roger by the shoulders and tell him how you feel,” she suggested. Nay, demanded. Brian just laughed. “I’m serious! And leave this Freddie thing behind you. I’ll deal with all that. You boys just get hot-headed and take things so personally. He’ll come home any second, by the way.”  
“He listens better you anyway,” Brian nodded as he rose from the table. It was already dark outside. What a depressing season it was.   
“I hope so. And Brian, before you go,” Mary interrupted him at the door. “Please get some sleep. You look like you’ve been up all night. Don’t study too hard.”  
“I won’t Mary, I promise,” he answered and gave her a kiss on the cheek. He wasn’t sure if he’d promised to study less or that he wouldn’t sleep, but he was amused by the latter.

Opening the door, Brian had a straight view into the living room. Roger was sitting on the couch, playing his acoustic guitar. He looked caught red handed and laid it down on the couch quickly.   
“Sorry, I just wanted to try it,” he excused. He didn’t look very sorry. Brian smiled at him and had to stand a moment to take it in before he started this whole thing. “What?” Roger asked eventually.  
“Nothing.” Sort of a lie. “Listen, Roger-”  
“Oh, no,” Roger mumbled. Brian went over to sit on the couch as well. Not too close. But close enough. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier, mate, it came out of the blue and I really shouldn’t have assumed-”   
“Stop, stop it,” Brian hushed, actually putting a hand on his shoulder, just like Mary said. He caught himself in it and moved it away again. “Stop apologizing for things. It doesn’t suit you.” Roger laughed at this.   
“I suppose it’s not my thing, no.” He was still smiling, looking down at his hands. He was often like this. A bit insecure, a bit soft. He put up a tough exterior at first glance, and he was still just a cheeky guy when around people. But alone like this, in the quiet, he was different. Is it just with me, Brian wondered. Had his family ever seen him like that? “Say what you were going to say.”

Brian hadn’t gotten that far in his brain. He wasn’t sure what to say. Should he just go for it, tell him how he felt? No, that was just too much. But he had to say it eventually, he knew he had to stop running away from things. But was not confronting them really the same as running away?

“When Freddie...said that, what more did he say?” Brian asked, leaning forward to rest on his knees with his elbows. He wasn’t really that interested, but he had to buy himself some time to think.   
“Um, I guess it was sort of an accident. It just slipped out, it seemed.” This was a little disappointing. Brian had actually hoped he’s find a new reason to dislike Paul. “It was after we’d played together.”  
“You mentioned that,” Brian confirmed.   
“Oh. Well, speaking of that…” Roger cleared his throat. Brian looked up to see him with a nervous expression, his fiddling hands suddenly very interesting to him. “I sort of- well, you were very good. You’re good at a lot of stuff. What I’m trying to say is that I-” he was stamering a lot, which was also unlike him. Brian wanted to just shut him up, because he knew what he was going to say. “I think I like you. But honestly, if you haven’t figured that out, you’re an idiot, Brian.” Brian was a little offended by this.

It was quiet. Very quiet. Roger finally looked at Brian and their eyes met. He felt the urge to look away and just barely did, but then regretted it and returned to those baby blues. Jesus Christ, his eyes were so pretty. He sat up straight in a slow movement, brushing his hands against Roger’s so he would stop picking at them. He did, and a gasp seemed to escape his nose. He knew what was going to happen. Brian wondered if he felt happy about it, or afraid. He wanted to say it was okay, this was no big deal. But A, it felt like a big deal to him too. And B, he didn’t want to confirm what was happening yet. He just wanted to rest in that moment for a second, feel that tension and check to see if it was real. Memorize it, or whatever. Then Brian finally managed to just gather some courage, close his eyes, and lean in-

The moment before impact felt like a million years. And then it was torn away. The telephone let out a shrill ring and everything fell apart. Brian opened his eyes again, Roger seeming to the same thing at the same time and they distanced themselves from one another. Another ring. Brian sobered up, the yellow light of the lamps clearing out his brain of the images that had been taken in there. Neither of them said anything. Another ring. No one wanted to take it. They were angry at the phone.   
“Is that a sign, do you think?” Roger whispered. Brian didn’t dare to respond. No answer would make the situation feel any better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooo, aaa! Emotions! Signs from the universe! 
> 
> What is going to happen now? Why do I like ruining things? Who knows!
> 
> Also I haven't decided if the person ringing is actually of importance or if it was just a thing so like...suggest ideas if you want!


	15. "But That's The Best Kiss I've Ever Had!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just the night after the last chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sweet but short one! 
> 
> Happy reading! <3

“So we can use the garage any time!” John cheered on the other line. Brian rubbed between his eyebrows. In no way was this bad news, but the call had sort of ruined a moment, and calling John back felt a bit anticlimactic.  
“Nice John, that’s great,” Brian responded, trying to sound excited. 

It was already late, Roger had gone to bed a while ago(maybe just to escape that moment), and Brian also just sort of wanted to curl into a ball in his dark room and die there. They’d almost kissed. They’d been centimeters apart, eyes closing, the whole deal. But they didn’t do it, they hesitated and stopped, which was almost worse than if they’d done it. Now it was unfinished, and who knew when they’d gather that much courage again? It’d taken this long to do it once.  
“I can tell you’re tired, Brian. Get some sleep, will you?” John then interrupted his thoughts. An imaginary sensation filled his fingers, of just laying his hand on Roger’s neck to keep him there.  
“Yeah,” he sighed.  
“Tell Roger I said hi, and tell him what I told you. I think it’ll make him happy,” John chirped, happiness clear in his little voice.  
“Of course. Good night, John.”  
“Night, Brian.”

And so he hung up the phone. The dead silence of the flat was deafening. He closed his eyes, feeling his body start to wobble. He was sleep deprived, he knew that, but he also knew if he went to bed he would wake right up the moment his head hit his pillow. Then he’d be stuck there, rolling around, thinking about this all night. He could study some more. Not that he really needed to, but it was a good way to take his mind off things.  
“Who was it?” came a quiet call from Roger, in his room. His voice was pitchy, like he was trying to speak up but he was too tired.  
“John,” Brian responded, already walking toward Roger’s bedroom. If he was awake, he wanted to be with him. It was pathetic, like an instinctive longing that he couldn’t slow down. But it felt very human, that need for contact and closeness. Man, he was lonely, wasn’t he? Brian opened the door to find Roger wide awake, one light lit on the bedside table. He was sitting upright, duvet pulled up halfway his bare chest. Don’t do this to me, Brian thought. Maybe at himself, since his steps led him further into the gloomy room.  
“What’d he say?” Roger asked, moving his legs to make room for Brian to sit. He obeyed. Roger wasn’t being flirtatious or cheeky now, he was in no way inviting to any tension. He was innocent and sweet, tired eyes drooping his long eyelashes so that they created shadows on his slightly blushed skin. Brian didn’t look away, he was too tired(physically, but also of the whole hiding thing, they didn’t need to do that now) to really care. 

He went on to explain what John had said to him about getting to use his parents’ garage any time they wanted, pretty much, to practice with “the band”. John had been right, Roger was happy about this.  
“I can finally play drums again, like whenever I want,” he beamed, his voice croaking a little from being worn out from the day. This led into a discussion of the band, if they should really try and do that, where they could play shows, what songs they should play, praising and kindly criticizing everyone in the band, what they should call themselves and so on. It was a long conversation, and Brian ended up leaning back against the wall with his legs crossed as he spoke to Roger, who was doing the same on the other wall on which the bed was stood against. When he needed to stretch his legs out, they would sort of intertwine with the duvet in between, and they laughed softly about this until they’d made themselves comfortable. It went on for hours, just talking and dreaming out loud. 

“I have to tell you something,” Roger eventually confessed. Brian swallowed. It was one in the morning, he could have the “I have to tell you something”-types of conversations now. “Freddie told me not to tell you this, but it seems people just don’t care about that now. So here goes.” He made a pause as he straightened himself a little. “When Freddie came over to apologize to me for New Years Eve-” They’d silently decided to refer to that event as just New Years Eve, because it made everyone uncomfortable. “He told me something about you. Or rather how he feels about you. You’ve been friends for a long time and you know Freddie’s queer, so it’s honestly not surprising that he likes you.” Roger looked up now, probably wanting to see what kind of reaction this would get. Brian decided to hold out until he was finished. “But- but he said that he’d let that go now. He’ll forget about it. Because he knows you don’t like him back now.” 

Now he seemed done. But Brian still wasn’t sure what to say, or even how to feel about it. Was he surprised? Not really. The whole knowing-each-other-for-a-long-time-thing as well as the he’s-queer thing were maybe argument enough. And Brian had been in a relationship with a woman for most of the time he’d known Freddie, so it’s not strange that he hadn’t acted on his feelings or anything. No, Brian was not surprised. He didn’t feel that much about it at all. But the last thing Roger said was a bit more boggling. 

“I see,” he mumbled, looking up at Roger, who just nodded, looking glad to have gotten it off his chest.  
“I figured it wouldn’t matter if you knew, ‘cause it’s in the past now,” he reasoned. Brian couldn't do else but agree. “And I also think the reason he kissed me in the first place-” Roger seemed surprised with himself that he’d said it out loud, but moved on quickly. “Was because he was frustrated with how he felt about you.”

Brian thought about it for a second. He remembered what Mary had said about her theory about Paul. How he’d want to make Freddie push Brian away to get him for himself. God, this was all so ridiculously complicated and childish. All he wanted was to be with Roger. He realized that in this moment, that that was what he was getting, so he should be grateful. He decided to tell Roger about that whole debacle as well, and to his surprise, he laughed. He seemed very amused by the idea.  
“Man, that guy is a real prick,” Roger hummed with a big smile on his face. His eyes were closed, like he was too tired to keep them open. Before Brian could respond, Roger was moving over to sit next him instead of diagonally across. “Wait, so let me get this straight. Freddie has the hots for you, but Paul likes him, so he wants Freddie to push you away. But how do I come into the equation?”  
Here’s where it got tricky. “He’d want to hurt me. Or think that he wanted to hurt me,” Brian mumbled. Roger looked at him curiously. “Since I like you, you know. If he ruined things between us, I wouldn’t be in the way.” Roger didn’t react too strongly about this. It was obvious, of course, but Brian had hoped for a little nervous chuckle or something.Were his feelings really that obvious?  
“He’s such a wanker! God, what a manipulative arse,” he said instead, maybe trying to distract himself. “But I guess I get it. I’ve been jealous before. Makes you do dumb things,” he then reasoned.  
“Yes,” Brian agreed, eyes now locked on Roger. “I wish things could be simple.” This made Roger’s smile go away. Instead he looked down, and a grave-like silence filled the room for a second.  
“Me too,” he said at last and looked up, their eyes meeting in the gloom. 

This time when that imaginary sensation came into his hands he could do it. It went slow and insecurely, but eventually his fingertips brushed against the warm skin on Roger’s neck. It was a little rougher than he’d imagined, than what he was used to, but it was all the more fulfilling. Roger responded a little quicker, a hand grazing upon his leg for a moment’s hesitation before landing on his thigh. It sent a bone-chilling feeling up his spine, almost like a tickle, but in a hot way. Still it was not tense, but sweet. They were both tired, eyes and bodies desperately telling them to go to sleep, but hearts beating hard and minds spinning fast to keep them awake and make this happen. It would happen. Brian realized Roger had actually kissed a man before, so maybe he wasn’t as nervous. He couldn’t help but smile a little at himself, and Roger echoed it, showing his teeth a little bit. It was warm and full of care, but Brian couldn’t wait for this anymore, steading his ever so soft grip of Roger’s jaw, and kissed him right when his lips had closed once more.

He wanted to keep his eyes open, just to see what it would look like to be that close, but he didn’t. Their breaths drawing in with force and the entire sensation of touch, skin on skin, lips on lips, was overwhelming enough as it was. 

It wasn’t that different from kissing a girl. Sure, he could feel a little scruffle and the scent of Roger, but once they were there, in physical contact, things just fell into place. Everything leading up to this, all the nervousness and hesitation, felt dumb and minor now that it was happening. It was right. Of course it was right. They’d known it was right from the moment they laid eyes upon each other that night, and all the obstacles hadn’t been real but a figment of their imagination originating from an inner insecurity. Usually Brian would have no way of knowing this about someone else without them telling him, but now he knew. He knew they were the same. The moment was short, the kiss would have been nothing new had things been a little different, but now it felt newborn and unique and like a millions years and a million stars. In the middle of it they seemed to realize it and began smiling, still locked together kindly at the mouth. Brian reaffirmed his movement once more, a new wave of the kiss washing over them. The room and world around them disappeared a little more. 

Maybe it was a little too overwhelming, or maybe neither of them wanted this to be any more serious than that right now, but after that they faded apart. Brian could feel his lip sticking to Roger’s a little in the tiny departure, that’s how slow they were moving, that’s how close together they stayed. Though it was done, he didn’t want to open his eyes, he didn’t want to move away, so he bumped his forehead to Roger’s. He laughed quietly, and Brian became very weak and smiled, his head falling to his neck and breathing into it. Roger gave into this and they fell back against the bed. Brian caught himself lazily, and then wrapped that arm around Roger’s head, tangling his fingers into his hair.  
“Not to be dramatic,” Roger hummed. Brian almost wanted to hush him. “But that’s the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!! I didn't wait 10 000 chapters to have my characters kiss for once! 
> 
> What did you all think? I kind of liked this, I think Brian's a deep thinker even in situations like this, and I wanted them to smile and laugh a lot. Oh and also if you've watched Friends there's some episode(or multiple??) where people mention "the night" when two people stay up and just talk and talk in the beginning of a relationship. So that's sort of what I was going for here? 
> 
> Hope you liked it!<33


	16. "I Just Want You To Know That."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An evening in Brian and Roger' flat. One month after the last chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> This is a little bit of a filler but it has some nice content for Rogy boy. Also I forgot to write this earlier but I realized this fit has over like 5300 hits which is pretty darn rad! And thank you for all the kudos and comments and continued support, my love goes out to y'all <33

Spring rain smattered against the window, a night wind whistling slightly in the old building. Roger shivered slightly at the thought of being out there, or maybe at the touch of fingers digging through his hair. He was draped over Brian on the couch, closing his eyes to the feeling of his deep breathing lifting his body up along with it. Brian was reading, his hands absentmindedly brushing through Roger’s locks. Something filled his chest, something he had never, ever felt before. 

They’d been together for about a month, somehow also keeping it secret from their friends. Of course, John wasn’t all that curious about their private lives, neither was Mary. Freddie was rather busy at the time, the only time they saw each other was for band practice. But it was fine, really. Roger had never felt this okay. A new level of okay. Good, or whatever it was called. 

Brian put down the book he was reading on Rogers chest. Something on astronomy or physics.   
“Finished?” Roger hummed. Brian scoffed softly, brushing the hair he’d been accidentally swiping into Roger’s face away from it.   
“Far from it,” he answered. Roger frowned a little, looking up at Brian upside down. He smiled at him, but Roger still wasn’t convinced.  
“How are you?” he asked softly. Now he smiled genuinely and leaned forward, giving Roger a kiss. It was strange kissing upside down, but they hung onto it for a couple of seconds with little pecks.   
“I’m perfect,” Brian sighed. It was quiet for another moment. “Sit up.” Brian moved up to a more upright position, and Roger did as told, turning around to sit face to face on his legs. “I know it’s still a little early, but you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just want you to know that.” 

He didn’t have to say much more than that. Roger knew exactly what he meant, because he felt the same way. Life had been like a massive thunderstorm, only finding shelter for a moment in fleeting solutions before lightning struck the roof off. Lonely. But not anymore. 

Brian’s voice was a little croaky, although it was only afternoon. Roger felt a little lump create in his throat and he smiled, leaning forward once more. This time their kiss felt a little more like it’s supposed to. Hand placed on Brian’s cheek, noting the texture of his scruff and the warm scent of his breath with a deep sigh. Usually in this situation he’d move around, sitting on top of Brian after all, but he decided to keep it civil. Sort of. Their tongues met and Brian seemed to hesitate before pulling away prematurely. Roger frowned a little.   
“I love you,” he said. Roger felt his breath hitch, eyes becoming wider. Brian reacted to this, looking a little panicked for a moment, and Roger enjoyed it until he managed to break into a smile. Brian cleared his throat. “And I’ve been thinking about calling up my family and telling them about me. I don’t have to mention you, but I don’t want to go around and carry this around for much longer.”

Roger thought about this, a smile still soft on his face. His immediate thought was that he would agree and do the same thing, but then he realized he couldn’t. Instead he nodded, moving back so Brian could get up.   
“You can mention me, I don’t mind,” he smiled. He did feel a little bit nervous, he didn’t want the same thing to happen to Brian that happened to him, but over the phone was easier than face to face. So what’s the worst that could happen? “I’ll give you privacy. I need to talk to Freddie about a song I wrote,” he then added and stood up.   
Brian followed him, furrowing his brows at him. “You wrote a song?”   
“Don’t make that face. It’s good,” Roger argued, hitting Brian softly in the arm before going to the hallway. He didn’t bother putting on shoes to go across the hall.   
“I bet. Is it about me?” Brian asked sneakily, picking up the phone.  
“Maybe,” Roger hummed and walked outside. 

To his great disappointment, Paul was already standing outside Freddie’s door. They had begun a more firm relationship about a month ago as well, ironically timed with Brian and Roger. However this was a lot more annoying.   
“Hi,” Paul greeted him, not-quite-a-smile on his face.   
“I need to talk band business,” Roger claimed as a warning. It was more important than whatever Paul was there for. Actually, it wasn’t hard to imagine what he was there for.   
“He doesn’t have time for that,” Paul explained matter-of-factly, but quietly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Roger rolled his eyes so much he felt like he pulled one.   
“We’ll see about that,” he simply responded, realizing none of them had rung the bell, so they were just standing there.   
“We don’t need the band. You’re not good enough anyway,” Paul mumbled and rung the bell, having thought the same thing, apparently. Roger felt his face flare up.   
“You treat him like some sort of queen-” the door opened. They both turned to look at Freddie, who had a curious expression on his face.   
“Queen?” he asked. Roger hoped because it was the only word he’d heard.   
“Look at these and tell me what you think later,” Roger suggested and handed Freddie the lyrics that he had crumpled up in his fist. He’d decided he didn’t want to hang around if Paul was going to be there. “And have a good shag,” he added quietly to Paul, who clenched his jaw. 

Brian was on the phone when Roger opened the door. He hadn’t been away for more than three or four minutes, but it sounded like the conversation was ending. Or at least pretty far along.   
“Yeah, he just came through the door. Yeah, yeah of course.” Brian talked quietly into the phone, Roger came over to hold his hand. Brian smiled at him, but looked like he was listening deeply. Roger tried to make out what the person on the other line was saying, but it was hard. It was a woman, at least. “No, we’re doing really good,” Brian said. Roger kissed his hand, leaning against the wall with him. “He can talk, I think. Hold on.” At this he perked up. He wasn’t ready to talk to Brian’s mom about his relationship with her son! But before he could speak up or even shake his head, the phone was on his ear. He grabbed a hold of it and cleared his throat after a moment.   
“Hello?”  
“Roger?”

It was his mother. He was sure, he didn’t have to hear anything more than that. Brian kissed his hand back and walked away so they could talk.  
“Mum?” He still had to ask. He felt a cold, shivering feeling settle in his stomach. What kind of conversation were they going to have? Why had Brian been speaking to his mother?   
“Yes, it’s me! My dear boy, it’s so good to hear your voice,” his mother quavered. He’d seen her cry a number of times, and recognized that she was now as well.   
“You too,” was all he could say.  
“Brian just called me and told me how you’d been doing. I’m really, really happy to hear you’ve got a job and all that. And you two seem...well, I’m glad you’re happy,” she mustered out. Had he been prepared, he probably could have handled this a lot more steadily, but now he broke into a big smile and felt tears run town his face.   
“Me too,” he croaked and cleared his throat again. “Wait, so he just called you?”  
“Yes, I suppose so! He cares about you a lot, I could tell. But I don’t want you to be alone out there, what kind of mother would I be if-”  
“No, no, mum, it’s okay,” Roger cut her off. He wasn’t angry or upset with her at all.   
“No, it really isn’t. Brian and I have talked before and I’ve realized that- well that I don’t care about… He’s told me some well-chosen words, might I add, but it’s all for the best. I love you, my son, and I always will. I just want you to know that.” 

While he was surprised to hear they’d spoken before, he didn’t feel upset about that either. Considering what he was hearing now, he could only be happy. It was completely unbelievable. He literally never thought this would ever happen. 

“I’ll never get these months without you back. But I’ve been thinking lately, about what’s important to me and what I’m giving up for your father. And nothing’s decided yet, but I’m considering moving to London. Your father probably won’t change his mind, and I’m so sorry. But I can’t do that to you, or myself. So what do you say? Can you forgive me?” his mother explained, stuttering a bit and sniffing between words. Roger dried his tears as well.   
“What is there even to forgive?” he chuckled. “And are you sure about this? Because I’m not upset with you, mum, I don’t want you to be unhappy for me.”  
“I have never been unhappier than these last months. I know what I’m doing, Roger, I really do,” his mother decided. Roger nodded, trying to get his head around this.   
“What will dad say? And Clare?”   
“Clare’s moving to London to study next year anyway, but she’ll have to make a decision of her own. But she loves you very much as well, Roger, don’t you worry.”

They continued talking for almost an hour, mostly Roger explaining what he’d been doing and how things were going. He felt a bit awkward talking about Brian, he wasn’t sure how much his mother really wanted to hear, but she seemed happy by the sound of it. He talked about the band, telling her about the show at Imperial College that Brian had somehow managed to get. They were writing all the time, trying to compose at least a few songs of their own for the concert. About all his friends, his job, what he’s eating.

When their conversation ended he felt completely drained. With a big, stupid smile on his face he wobbled into the living room where Brian had picked up his book again.   
“Thank you,” Roger croaked, falling back down onto his chest, listening closely to his steady heartbeat. He could feel his ribs, Brian was a skinny man, but he was still comfortable.  
“No problem, love,” Brian mumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! Short but sweet. A little bad tbh but whatever! I hope you enjoyed it! I'm planning to wrap up this story pretty soon ;-)


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